Split Screen Sadness: a Haley Scott story
by AfricanChieftess
Summary: One of those "what if" situations – a Naley storyline somewhere in the Season 3 finale, after the wedding. My version of events if Nathan had died.
1. Chapter 1

**It still baffles me years later that important Naley bits in the show were not aired; Nathan waking up after the limo accident. Nathan's reaction following the psycho nanny going after Haley and Jamie.  
**

**Leaving my hang-ups aside and moving on to the disclaimer: all creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s). **

* * *

They proceed down the empty hallway slowly, nervously, holding hands, shoulders brushing.

Approaching the end, they stop, hesitating a few feet away from their targeted door.

The blinds over the viewing window prevent them from looking in, but they don't need to be clued in as to what's going on.

"I-I don't think I can do this," she stammers, loosening her hand from his and flexing it.

Exhaling excruciatingly, he kneads her shoulder gently. "I don't think I can do it, either."

"You have to. She should hear it from you."

"It doesn't make it any less painful coming from me."

"I know but…it's better if you do it," she says, brushing her lips across his and moving away from him.

"I'll wait here, okay?"

He nods, turning to face the door. He stares at it for a moment and after shooting her a quick glance over his shoulder, he turns the handle and steps inside.

The room is quiet, dimly lit by the yellow light from the single bedside lamp.

At the sound of the opening door, the patient rolls over on the bed, in the process entangling her legs in the bed covers.

"Nathan?"

A muted, sharp breath passes his lips.

"No…"

The patient smiles at the sound of his voice. "Hey, Luke."

He sinks slowly into the chair beside the bed, clasping his hands together in nervous dread.

"Hi. How are you feeling?" he asks quietly.

She laughs throatily, sitting up slowly. Her face looks tight, puffy and pink.

"Like I got thrown around by a rhino."

Pressing her fingers lightly to her brow, she sighs as she massages her temple.

"I have a nasty bump right here and it hurts like hell."

He chuckles nervously, his knee involuntarily starting to bop.

Her eyes flicker over to the closed door. "Is Nathan with you?"

He shakes his head, leaning forward, elbows on knees.

"Oh? Where is he?"

She laughs again, somewhat dryly and forced. "I hope he's not getting me flowers. I'm always telling him to save for a rainy day instead of buying me things."

Her words, her cluelessness, feel like the final blow right in his chest.

"He...he's gone, Hales," Lucas says slowly, his eyes starting to burn.

"Gone where?" she asks, confusion clouding her face. "Is he at home?"

"No…"

"Okay. Where is he then? Can you call him for me?"

He shakes his head again, feeling a tear roll down his cheek.

She looks away then, fidgeting on the bed, starting to breathe heavily.

"C-can you please call him?"

He's on his feet, reaching for her. "I can't, Hales…"

"No."

"Haley."

She whips her head to him, freeing her shoulder from his touch.

"No."

"I'm so so sorry…" he rasps.

She's shaking her head vehemently, seeming to shrink away from him with every movement.

"No. No! NO! NO! NOOOO!"

Her trembling hands are over her ears, shutting out every sound, watching his lips move.

She refuses to listen to what he's saying, she refuses to acknowledge the tears in his eyes.

His fingers curl over her wrists, prying her hands away from her ears.

"He's de–"

"GET OUT!" she screams in his face, so loudly that he loosens his grip on her.

"Ha–"

Suddenly, she sits up straighter, her eyes hard as steel, drilling into him, menacing and angry.

"GO! GET OUT!"

He takes a step back, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"GO! OUT! GET OUT! GET THE HELL OUT!"

Her wild screams are so loud that they can be heard down the corridors of the hospital.

The door opens, and a blonde head peeks into the room.

He looks over his shoulder at her, a helpless expression on his face.

The blonde's green eyes fall to the young girl on the bed, who is looking back and forth between them murderously.

"Get the hell out. Both of you. Get out."

Her feral and cold manner is like lightning crackling, and with a nod, Peyton is gone.

Lucas doesn't say a word, simply stares down at his best friend, her stance stiff and rigid.

"I…I'll be right outside," he says.

Her eyes watch him as he leaves, her breathing coming in short, hard gasps by the time he's out the door.

Lightheaded and trembling, Haley folds herself on the bed, a guttural moan passing her quivering lips.

"Oh my God…"

The truth swims around her mind, hurting her brain and body. She's shaking uncontrollably, every fibre of her being rattling and quaking. The pain is overwhelming, starting from her toes, all the way to the roots of her hair.

"Oh my G-God…"

Her hands over her face, she lets out a desperate scream so loud that it leaves her breathless.

The two friends barge into the room seconds after that, watching her moan, cry and scream.

"What is going on here?" the doctor demands as she rushes into the room behind them, followed by a nurse.

"I just…" Lucas tries to explain from the foot of the bed, his eyes wide with horror as he watches his friend come undone.

The nurse reaches for Haley's arms, trying to hold her still.

"You told her?" the doctor spits, circling to the other side of the bed.

He nods mutely, watching as Haley kicks her legs around, fighting against the hold they have on her.

"She's too fragile for that!" she barks before turning to the nurse and shooting out orders.

"She…she was looking for him," he says, more to himself than to them.

Again and again, she screams for him.

"Nathan…Nathan…"

She screams his name hysterically, sobbing so deeply, so painfully, that Peyton starts to cry, too.

"This one is milder than before," the doctor explains as the nurse rushes back in with a syringe in hand.

She struggles and screams, and they watch in silence as she starts to calm down, her eyes shutting slowly before she's out like a light.

* * *

"They sedated her again," he says into the phone, head bowed down, his fingers combing through his hair in quick succession. "How's Deb?"

He listens quietly, a thousand thoughts flying through his mind.

"Um, I don't know but I'll call you later. . . .Okay. . . .I love you, Mom. . . .Bye."

With a heavy sigh, he leans back in the plastic chair.

"Deb is asleep, too."

"This can't be happening," Peyton mutters in disbelief from beside him, her arms wrapped around her middle.

"Th-they just got married again, Luke. And then…oh my God…"

Her fingers clutch fistfuls of the red bridesmaid's dress, gripping the material so tightly that her hands pale.

"What are we supposed to do? What is she supposed to do?"

He doesn't say anything, letting her talk it out. One of them needs to be able to say things out loud at some point.

"He's dead, Lucas. Dead. Not sick or…or missing, but dead."

She wipes at her cheeks furiously with the backs of her hands.

"What the hell is she supposed to do? How–"

She's crying again, her head falling to his starch white dress shirt, her bony shoulders shaking.

Today was supposed to be one of the best days of their life together, he thinks, blinking repeatedly against his tears. But it's frightening how things can change in an instant.


	2. Chapter 2

She hears the bang in her sleep, eyes opening instantaneously as the scene starts to unfold, like a veil being lifted from her mind.

Her heart is beating riotously, and her body feels damp and frozen. In a mad panic, her eyes dart around the dim room.

There's no breeze but it's so cold, like his absence has sucked the warmth out of everything for her. The surrounding emptiness, the utmost terror of his leaving, washes over, making her whimper and tremble.

Biting down on her lip, she closes her eyes, the echo of the shot ringing in her ears and the scent of blood taking her back.

It slams into her, reminding her of what she had tucked away in the far corners of her mind…

_"I promise we won't miss the flight," he said, rubbing the pad of his thumb along her skin. _

_"I'm just so thirsty. You wore me out on the dance floor, you know." _

_"I warned you that I would."_

_"And I listened. I kept up with you, didn't I?" he smirked._

_"Like a pro," she grinned._

_His arm over her shoulder, he placed a quick kiss to her temple before focusing back on the road._

_"Luke's car will get us there on time. I know you're a real pain in the butt about time and schedules."_

_"Hey!" she protested with a small smile, nuzzling against his chest. _

_With a grunt, he said, "I can't believe that Rachel got drunk and stole our wedding limo."_

_"I can't believe that your Uncle Cooper slept with Rachel. She's seventeen and what is he, like thirty?"_

_"He must not have known. I mean, he couldn't have known, right?"_

_"Weird if he did. She was pretty wasted today."_

_"Kinda like you were that day at the beach."_

_"Don't remind me," she laughed, raising her head to prop her chin on his shoulder. "I doubt I would have stolen a car."_

_"Maybe if you'd given me a chance to convince you…" he winked. "Damn."_

_"What?"_

_"I just passed the store."_

_"We can go back."_

_"Nah. There's another one not too far down the road. Besides, turning back would probably send you into a fit."_

_"I'm rethinking showing up on time at the wedding. I would have enjoyed seeing you panic that I had run off with a lifeguard."_

_He laughed loudly as they passed the bridge. "A lifeguard? I thought you had a thing for basketball players."_

_"I have a giant crush on the one they call Nathan Scott."_

_"Handsome guy, I'm told."_

_"Hot."_

_They drove on for a distance, content, until Nathan spoke up._

_"You know that stillness I used to feel before dawn when I was a kid?"_

_She lifted up her eyes to him. "Yeah."_

_"I just got that feeling. The feeling that the world could be perfect."_

_"I feel it, too." _

_Slipping off the Cracker Jack bracelet from her wrist, she drew it over his. "Don't say I never gave you anything."_

_He weaved their fingers together, his gaze flitting between her face and the road. "I'd let you kiss me but I don't want us to run off the road and break some bones before our honeymoon."_

_"You'd let me kiss you?" she laughed. "Really?"_

_"Really," he answered coyly as they approached the solitary store. _

_He swerved off the road and onto the small parking lot._

_Turning off the ignition, he whispered into her hair, "I'll kiss you later."_

_"I'll be waiting."_

"You're awake."

The foreign voice breaks through her thoughts, yanking her back to the present.

White walls, white ceiling, a woman in a floral-print shirt and plain purple pants holding a tray.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, smiling down at her, revealing a small gap between her two front teeth.

Haley doesn't answer, looking away, over the nurse's head to a spot in the corner of the ceiling.

"Here. Take this. It will help with the headache."

"No, thank you," she responds in a husky whisper, her eyes still focused elsewhere, not bothering to look at what the nurse wants her to take.

The headache is nothing compared to the ache and loneliness pinning her in place. And she needs to be alert right now.

"I'll just leave it here," the nurse says, metal clanking as she slides the tray onto the bedside table.

"Your friends are still around. Do you want me to–"

"No. I…I'm fine. I just need–" Her voice breaks, her lips starting to quiver.

She needs to be alone.

"Okay," the nurse nods, a pitiful timbre in her voice.

When the door clicks softly behind her, Haley drops her gaze to scan her surroundings.

Under the subtle softness of the yellow light, she spots her wedding dress, folded neatly and lying on a shelf in the closet embedded into the wall.

Her shoes, the heels she painstakingly broke in and practiced to wear with grace, sit beside the dress, still semi-brand new.

She stares at them as she draws away the bed covers, dropping her feet to the cold tiled floor and padding slowly to the closet.

She slips off the thin hospital gown, letting it drop to the floor, her shaking fingers reaching for the wedding dress.

The material swishes as she draws it over her head, zipping it up, the dress fitting just as perfectly as it did this morning.

_"You look beautiful, Mrs. Scott."_

Loosening her hair from its weak hold in the pearly clipper, she pulls it back to the base of her neck, securing the clipper tightly around it.

Her fingers smoothen out the dress, the corner of her eye catching the small gleaming diamonds in her new ring.

_"How much did this wedding and this ring cost?"_

_"None of your business."_

At the sight of the patches of blood stains on the gown, her fingers still in their motion.

She trembles, the contrast of snow white and dark red a reminder of what she had and what she's lost.

_"I'll kiss you later."_

Shoes in hand, she turns the door handle slowly, stepping out into the hallway, blinking against the bright fluorescent light above.

Instead of heading towards the nurses' station, she walks slowly towards the door leading to the stairs. She's not ready to face her friends just yet. She wants to see him first.

She expects alarms to start blaring when she pushes the door but nothing happens. Their alarm system is either faulty or it's not been programmed to work like that.

Trudging down the stairs, holding onto the railing, she starts thinking about one of their ugliest fights.

For some reason, the Birth Control Fight, as they came to call it later on, is just playing out in her mind.

After the first time they'd spent the night together following her return from the tour, Dan had scared him into thinking that she was going to trap him with a baby.

When he'd asked, he'd walked out after telling him that she hadn't been on birth control.

A day later, he'd come to see her at Peyton's house, where she had been staying since he'd given up the apartment after she left for the tour.

That night, she was the one who stormed out before they could resolve it, too angry with him for thinking she would stoop so low just to get back together.

_"Why are you being so hostile with me?"_

_"Did you think about it? Having a baby to stay together?"_

_Her eyes narrowed slightly at him as she sunk onto the couch. "Nathan, I am seventeen years old, we're still in high school, you and I are totally in limbo. No, I don't want a baby."_

_"Well, you knew you weren't protected that night."_

_"First of all, it takes two, guy without a condom? Second, the only thing I was thinking about that night was being with my husband. The fact that you think I was trying to trap you into something is really insulting."_

_Just to give herself something to do, she turned on the television, willing herself not to cry._

_"Then why'd you go off birth control?" he demanded accusingly._

_"Because I was on tour and you weren't with me, and contrary to what you were thinking, I wasn't sleeping with Chris Keller," she snapped._

_"Haley, what if something would have happened, huh? That would have changed our lives forever."_

_"Like what, marriage?"_

_"I know we're married. I'm talking about basketball, my career."_

_She almost jumped off the couch, disbelieving that he could be so insensitive. "Oh, okay. So let me get this straight. You're the one with goals and dreams and the only thing I want you apparently is you back. I'm not that desperate, Nathan."_

_Furious, she clicked repeatedly on the remote, switching from channel to channel, wishing her anger to dissipate. He could be so insufferable sometimes!_

_He sat beside her, leaning back with his arm slung over the back of the couch to face her fully. _

_"Let me see them."_

_"See what?"_

_"The pills, Haley. Let me see them."_

_At that moment, she wanted to scream._

_"I cannot believe that you still don't believe me. I can't believe it."_

_Leaping off the couch to rummage through her purse that lay on the table beside the sofa, she'd pulled out the case, slapping it against his chest energetically. _

_"You know what? Keep them! I don't need them anymore!"_

_"Haley…"_

_She was too angry to give him a chance to explain, to let him off the hook so easily. Grabbing her purse, she marched to the front door and swung it open, turning back in fury to give him a piece of her mind. _

_"Your future as a basketball player is totally secure. Your future as my husband? Not so much!"_

They hadn't spoken for two days, with her refusing to take his calls and ignoring him in school when he tried to approach her, completely livid that he thought so little of her.

Selfishly, she had been concerned that the idea of having kids with her would be the worst thing in the world for him. And she hadn't kept it to herself when he'd cornered her in the courtyard.

_"I don't know what hurts worse, Nathan. That you think that I was trying to trick you into having a baby with me, or that having one with me is your worst nightmare."_

_"It's not like that. I'm just not ready for that."_

_"Of course not. Neither am I."_

Slipping into her shoes, she pushes the door marking the ground floor, walking down the busy corridor of the emergency room.

Disregarding the curious glances from hospital personnel and patients, her gaze aims at the hospital index ahead.

Of course the morgue would be in the basement.

Not knowing what to do with her hands as she walks back the way she came from, she grasps onto her dress, holding it slightly off the floor from the snares of her heels.

The stares continue but she doesn't pay them any heed.


	3. Chapter 3

Seemingly frozen, she stands outside the metal door, staring hard as if boring holes into it.

For some reason, she feels cold, like the chilliness in that room is seeping through the door to reach her.

She badly wants to go in, to see him again, but she can't. Desperately, she wishes that this is all a dream; a horrible dream that she'll wake from and Nathan will be there, his blue eyes shining as he leans down to ki–

"Can I help you?"

She whips her head to the side, facing the half-bald, clean-shaven, bespectacled man with a coffee mug and sandwich in his hands.

He looks her over quickly, noting the blood-stained wedding dress.

"Oh. You're the one…"

Her eyes fall to the floor, her jaw clenching with the realization that he realizes why she's down here.

Yes, she's The One.

"I'll be in there whenever you're ready," he says quietly, pushing through the swinging door.

A blast of cold air hits her face and she takes a step back away from the door.

Gulping at the solid lump in her throat, she loosens her right hand from clinging to her dress. She's shaking as she places her palm against the cold grey metal, daring herself to walk in.

Already feeling chilled to the bone, she forces herself to step in, her eyes roaming around the room.

It looks like a storage room, with rows of cabinets built into the wall, where Nathan is in one of them.

Several metal tables bolted into the floor line the centre of the room. There is a back office where the mortician is sitting propped up with his feet on the table, reading a magazine while sipping his coffee.

At the sound of her heels on the cemented floor, he looks up, hurriedly walking out of his office.

It's strange that he seems nervous around her when she's not the first family member to come see their loved one. He feels really sorry for her; the story has circulated all over the hospital of a high school couple and the groom got shot on their wedding day.

"I'm sorry," he says, his eyes unblinking behind the thick lenses as they stare at the stain on her dress.

Afraid she may start crying, Haley nods, biting down on her lip, a strand of her hair coming loose from the clip to fall over her face. A trembling hand reaches to tuck it back behind her ear.

He clears his throat nervously, taking a few steps towards one of the units in the middle.

Gazing at it, she's hit by panic.

"W-what happens after this?" she asks softly, her throat hurting from that huge knob.

"We release him to you. I mean, the funeral home."

The thought of what is to come after this makes her feel weak, and she wants to lean on something before her legs give out.

"I haven't–"

She looks away, not feeling strong enough to do this but she has to.

The man nods understandingly; she's so young and looking utterly vulnerable.

"We can wait until you've made arrangements."

He holds out his hand, and in it is a sealed plastic bag. "His personal effects."

Haley sucks in a shaky breath, slowly taking it from him.

Her fingers run over the plastic, tracing Nathan's wallet, ring, cell phone and the colourful Cracker Jack bracelet she had slipped on his wrist.

_"Don't say I never gave you anything."_

He was late for their first tutor session and she was boiling with suppressed rage when he finally arrived.

Despite the wintry weather, she remembers the warmth of his skin as his fingers brushed along her hand to slide the cheap plastic bracelet onto her hand.

The sweetness of the gesture, the sincerity in his words and the charming smile made her forget for a moment how angry she was.

Something about him that morning tugged at her heart.

They fell in love quickly, getting married after only a few months, and that warmth was a part of her everyday since then.

Until now.

She will never hear his voice, hold his hand or kiss him again…he'll never be here.

"Do you want me to...?"

Her gaze flits over to the morgue attendant, and with a hard swallow, she nods slightly.

The click of metal is followed by a whoosh, like air is being let out of a vacuum.

Her eyes focus on the white sheet over him, and then the tag hanging off his big toe. 'Nathan Scott' is written in red Sharpie.

She's seen those toes enough times to know that they belong to her husband.

The morgue attendant lifts the sheet off Nathan's face and it takes her eternity to finally look.

He's as pale as the sheet covering the rest of him.

"We had to perform an autopsy because of the circumstances," the attendant says in a soft voice, as though worried he will wake a sleeping man.

Dropping the plastic bag to the floor, she takes shaky steps to her husband.

The memory of what happened floods in, each scene starting to play out in slow motion.

_Calling out to him through the open window and shouting I love you._

_His smirk before he entered the store._

_Waiting in the car, smiling goofily as she admired her new wedding ring._

_Fiddling with the radio before hearing a gunshot from inside the store._

_Her fingers fumbling to open the door, stumbling out of the car headfirst, terrified, watching and waiting for Nathan to walk out._

_And then another gunshot._

_Disregarding the danger and running towards the store, unable to think of anything but finding Nathan._

_The door bursting open and someone in a black ski mask pushing her out of the way, so hard that her head bumps against the thin column._

_Ignoring the pain, the sight of Nathan's dress shoes near the counter turning her cold._

Her whole body is quaking and her eyes are filled up with tears that make seeing unclear.

Blinking hard, the tears slip down her cheeks, and she sniffles to compose herself.

Her fingers brush along his icy cheek, tracing every inch of his face.

_"When I look into your eyes, my love for you only grows. It's even stronger now."_

He said that only hours ago when they renewed their vows. Hours ago, they were deliriously happy and he was alive.

She's sniveling as she leans over him, pressing her lips to his cheek.

"N-Nathan…"

She cradles his face in her hands, smoothing back his hair, her chest aching with every kiss she leaves on his face.

"Oh my God…"

His lips do not soften under hers to kiss her back, his arms do not go around her to hold her closer, his eyes never flicker open.

She wants to tell him that she loves him but she can't say any more, those images of what brought them here dancing around her mind.

_Crawling on all fours, screaming out his name._

_Seeing the blood on his shirt. _

_Red on white._

_His lips slightly parted._

_His eyes closed._

_His hand holding a bottle of water._

_The sinister motionlessness of his body._

_Cradling his head on her lap, screaming and crying his name over and over, telling him to wake up._

_The blood that couldn't stop flowing._

_Kissing his lips repeatedly to bring him back._

_Her hand over his heart, not feeling it beating…_

Everything is closing in on her, her chest feels tight and she can't seem to breathe.

She's feeling herself surrendering to the grief, feeling weightless as she collapses to the ground.

Before she falls, strong arms grip her arms tightly, holding her up.

Her head lolls to the side and she catches a glimpse of blue eyes; a pair of familiar blue eyes that look like Nathan's but belong to someone else with blonde hair, not black.

"I've got you, Hales."

The voice doesn't belong to him, either.


	4. Chapter 4

"It's my fault."

Peyton rolls over to her side, studying Haley's profile. Her face is flushed, her nose, eyes and lips a little swollen.

"What is?"

They've been lying there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, not saying a word, surrounded by the vast collection of vinyl LPs on the long shelves.

The enormity of how life will be from now on without him has kept Haley up, everything playing at high volume in her head.

She retreated into Peyton's spare room when Luke drove them here, a place she called home after the tour when Nathan didn't want to talk to her. It's better being here than going back to the apartment, where he won't be.

The blue buttons of the small clock on the nightstand indicate that it's almost five in the morning.

Yesterday, she was a bundle of nerves at five in the morning, anxious and excited to get married to her husband again.

At five in the evening, she was sobbing over his dead body in a store off the highway.

"It's my fault that he's dead."

She twirls her wedding ring round and round her finger.

"I-I didn't want to miss the flight so he– and then–"

Her throat closes up and fresh tears start pooling in her eyes, rolling over the sides of her face to hit parts of the pillow that have been dampened by other unending tears.

Peyton throws her arm over Haley's waist, giving her a gentle squeeze, her eyes brimming with tears.

"It's not, Haley."

Drawing in a deep breath, Haley prowls on, spewing out what she's been thinking the last few hours.

"Why…why did I have to be so selfish? My God, we could have gone back but he wanted me to feel better. He – he was there because of me…"

_"I want you to know how happy you made me."_

Words cannot begin to express how much she misses him.

"Who…who took him from me?"

The man in the ski mask shot her husband like he didn't mean anything, like he was a useless pawn in his game of thieving. He killed Nathan, and now he's killing her, too.

"The cops are looking for him, Hales."

It can't be enough to just catch him and put him away. As much as he'll be punished, it won't bring her Nathan back.

"I-I don't think I c-can survive this, Peyton. I ca–"

She breaks off, her hands going over her face, crying in a way that is heartbreaking to hear. Death should just come for her because she feels too empty to keep on living.

Peyton, sniffling and holding her friend closer, croaks, "Y-you will. Somehow, you will."

Haley's shaking her head, her tears flowing in rivulets down the sides of her face.

She can't talk anymore. It's taking so much effort to speak, let alone do anything else like raise her limbs, Peyton having had to help her out of the wedding dress.

"Take it from me, Haley. It's going to be alright."

She hopes that it really will be alright; even though Peyton knows what she's talking about after losing her mom, Haley doesn't see that silver lining in the clouds that people talk about.

At this point, nothing anyone says can make her feel encouraged.

"We're here for you, okay?"

She knows and she appreciates it, but she wants him.

She wants Nathan.

* * *

_"What are we doing here? Nathan Scott, if we are busted, I'm faking amnesia."_

_He laughed, the sound ricocheting around them. "You mean you'd leave me high and dry like that?"_

_"Yes! I can't lie through my teeth, you know that."_

_She drew closer to him as they walked the dark football field, her eyes darting around anxiously in case heavily armed security guards were on the prowl._

_"Lucky for you I'm pretty good at lying."_

_"I hope you've not been lying to me during our marriage."_

_"Not about the big things."_

_She laughed along with him, taking his arm and draping it across her shoulders._

_"Are you cold?" he asked, kissing the top of her head._

_"No. Just anxious. Where are we going?"_

_"We're almost there."_

_Suddenly he stopped, loosening his arm from around her shoulders to shake out the quilt._

_"We're here."_

_She looked around at the empty stadium; they were smack-dab in the middle of the field._

_"We are?"_

_"Yep. Come on, then. Sit," Nathan urged, holding out his hand to her from where he sat on the quilt._

_The cool night air floated around them, and for a moment, they were quiet, just looking at each other._

_"I love you, honey, but why did you bring me to an empty field? Is something wrong?" she asked, her chest tight at the serene look on his face. _

_She wondered if he was going to tell her that he had been diagnosed with a terminal illness._

_"Other than to spend time with you?" he smirked. And then his face turned serious._

_"What is it, Nathan? You're really scaring me."_

_"After the shooting, before we got back together, did I ever tell you how terrified I was when I thought I'd lose you?"_

_Her eyes softened and she leaned closer, her legs between his, knees touching knees. _

_"It's okay. Keith's fine, now."_

_He nodded, reaching for her hands, rubbing his warm ones over hers. "I know, but if it hadn't been him, it would have been any one of us."_

_"Thank God Jimmy was a bad shot," she said lightly. _

_With a short laugh, he breathed out. "He was waving the gun around on you, Hales, remember? God, it just scares the hell out of me when I think of what would have happened if he'd pulled the trigger by mistake."_

_"I'm okay, babe. We all are."_

_"I want you to know something, Hales."_

_"What?"_

_"If anything ever happens to me, if you ever lose me, I want you to know how happy you made me. How wonderful my life was with you and I always will be with you."_

_His words were scaring her. There were things she never wanted to think about, things like losing him and living in a world where he wasn't there._

_"Nothing's going to happen to you."_

_He held her palm to his lips for a kiss. "I know. I know you're right, but if it does, I want you to be okay, Haley, and know you made me happy."_

_She bopped her head reluctantly, in a motion that was between agreement and refusal._

_"Nathan, you–"_

_Out of the blue, the sprinklers came on, cold water raining down on them from different directions._

_She half-laughed half-screamed with surprise and delight._

_"You wanted rain!" he grinned._

_Pressing her forehead against his, she reached for his collar, scooting closer to him._

_"It's not possible to be this in love!" she laughed, right before their lips met in a deep kiss. _

_"I love you."_

_"I love you, too."_

_The sprinklers chugged away, wetting their hair and clothes as they fell back together on the quilt, their lips clung to each other in another breathtaking kiss._

* * *

The gunshots are like explosions in her dreams.

She wakes up with a gasp, her eyes flying open instantly, coming in contact with the glowing numbers of the alarm clock.

It's almost nine.

She'll never get those shots out of her mind. One of them killed Nathan. One of those two shots from a heartless creature cut short her husband's life.

The sun is up, streaming in through the slit between the curtains. Despite its warmth, the bleakness within her soul makes her terribly cold.

Gathering strength, she drags herself out of the bed and to the bathroom across the hall.

After wearily scrubbing herself raw, she crouches down to the tiled floor, her head falling over her bent knees, her shoulders shaking as she starts to cry.

The reality of Nathan gone manifests itself so horribly that she can't stop herself from crying. The tears will probably never stop.

It clouds her mind, making her give in to the heartache and hoping to purge it out through her tears.

She's nowhere close to feeling better or hopeful as she exits the bathroom.

_"I want you to know how happy you made me."_

Two months ago, he said such frightening things that it's worrisome it could have been a sign.

In her underwear, clasping the wrapped towel lifelessly to her chest with one hand, she zips open the Ravens duffle bag lying on top of the beanbag. Her fingers curl around something familiar and pulling it out, she stares at the garment.

It's Nathan's sweatshirt, a grey one that she would swipe from him whenever it got too cold.

Holding it under her nose, she draws in a deep breath, the scent of his cologne filling her lungs.

She begins to sob into it, remembering how much safer and better she felt when he was with her. A sweatshirt cannot even give her a portion of the comfort and safety that surrounded her whenever he was around.

Dragging it over her head when she's calmed down, it reaches her knees, and the arms are voluminous around her own. Silently, she thanks Lucas for not leaving it behind.

After slipping into black, baggy sweatpants and a pair of flip-flops, she breathes out steadily a few times through her mouth before stepping out of the room.

Holding onto the banister, she walks slowly down the stairs, her fingers clutching the railing feebly, her legs jelly-like and weak.

Soft murmurs carry as she gets to the bottom step, hushed tones that are most likely discussing her worst nightmare.

Hesitant to walk any further, she tips her head sideways into the sweatshirt to inhale.

"I miss you, baby," she whispers, imagining that Nathan is somewhere close by. Can he hear her?

_"I always will be with you."_

"I miss you so so much…"

She would trade anything to see him again.

With a shaky smile, she steps into the living room, looking around with that fake smile.

The sadness in the room is palpable.

Refusing to cry, pretending that she's fine, her gaze lands on the puffy faces of their family and closest friends. Surprise crosses her face when she sees her father and mother-in-law, both sitting quietly in the smaller sofa at the corner.

She swiftly feels ashamed, knowing it's her fault that their son is gone, and she can't look her straight in the eye when they make eye contact. That phony smile falters and it's soon gone.

"Haley."

Deb's voice is gruff and her face is pale, purple shadows below her eyes. Haley hopes that the pain of losing her son won't break her and suck her back into addiction, because if she did, she wouldn't know how to help her.

Supporting herself on the armrest, Deb raises herself slowly from the chair, meeting Haley halfway and putting her arms around her daughter-in-law in a tight hug.

They both start to cry, crying for the one person they had in common, the one person they shared a deep love for.

Haley buries her face in Deb's neck, apologizing over and over, trying to tell her just how sorry she really is.

"I'm s-sorry…"

Deb rubs her back, shushing and assuring her that it's not her fault, that she shouldn't feel responsible for something someone else did.

They draw apart, each of them sniffling and wiping at their wet cheeks with the backs of their hands.

"I know you're tired but we'll have to…we have to make some arrangements," the older woman says quietly, smoothing down Haley's damp hair.

She just nods in response, wanting to cower somewhere and not have to deal with things like arrangements for her husband's funeral.

Her worst nightmare has sprung to life.

* * *

People start arriving, family, friends, classmates, teammates, players from other towns that Nathan has shared a court with.

After unending rounds of "I'm so sorry" and "This is so sad", accompanied by pitiful expressions, hugs and tearful faces, Haley's had enough.

Their kindness is just pushing her to sink further into the hellish pits of despair.

With a motion of her head to Deb, she starts to slink away upstairs back to Peyton's spare room, Deb and Dan tagging along not too far behind after excusing themselves.

Leaning back on the headboard of the bed, Haley watches Deb pull out papers from her purse. She'll let Deb run the show because she's never been part of a funeral before.

Her grandparents are long gone and she was either not born or too young to understand when they died. She just remembers a lot of people moving in and out of their house, all the food they brought tilting the refrigerator shelves. Then, it felt like both Santa and the Easter Bunny had sent her all those sweet things to eat. Now, she'll probably scream if she sees another casserole or quiche.

They don't talk much, none of them in the mood for small talk when the sadness looms over them like a dark cloud.

Dan sits stiffly in the chair at the corner, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands on his knees, as if he's ready to run or fight someone. Something has changed and he looks like a broken man.

Haley feels sorry for him, wondering if he berates himself for not having a better relationship with Nathan.

"Thank you for coming to the wedding, Mr. Scott," she says from the bed, breaking the silence around them.

He looks up at her, seeming to tense further.

"Nathan…Nathan was really glad that you made it." She looks at Deb, who is teary-eyed. "Both of you."

Despite how things had turned out between them, so badly that he'd pleaded emancipation, Nathan always hoped that they would change.

Sometimes they would disappoint him, like their open hostility towards their marriage. Sometimes they would come through for him, like being cordial in each other's presence at their second wedding despite the nasty divorce.

It's not the same as hearing him say it but she won't let it go unsaid.

"I-I know that things weren't easy but he loved you."

Even when he said he was done being the parent to his parents, deep down he would give them the benefit of the doubt.

Deb is wiping at her eyes with a wadded up tissue, and Dan is just blinking rapidly. Their body language speaks of regret.

"Th-thank you," Deb sniffles.

With a nod, Haley looks away to the window, feeling sorry for them, wishing that somehow their guilt will fade because after what she's said, she's probably made things worse.

Once she's composed herself, Deb assigns the duties and with some bravado, they plow through the planning; flowers, church, casket, burial ground, headstone.

This must be what an alternate universe is, Haley thinks. How can she be doing this when a week ago she was making other arrangements for a happy occasion?

Everyone is kind on the phone, helping them through it all. Sometimes Haley just lets Dan or Deb talk when there is more than one choice to make. She's grateful that Dan doesn't get angry with anyone because it would probably affect her, breaking the dam she's reinforcing around her heart.

Karen brings up a tray of coffee and apple pie, but it sits untouched on the desk.

After the last phone call, Dan excuses himself, heading downstairs to inform the rest on the details.

"I'm sorry, Deb," Haley says when he's gone, folding her legs close to her chest.

Deb zips up her purse, straightening before sitting slowly on the dark red comforter. She clasps her hands together, looking down at them where they are on her lap.

"When he started playing basketball, I would worry about him. Constantly."

She laughs nervously, raising her head to look at the door.

"Dan would tell me that at least it wasn't football because I would have been committed from worry if he were."

She laughs again, sarcastically this time.

"The first time he fell, I was so afraid that I wanted to take him to the emergency room. I thought he had internal bleeding and he would die from a clot or some other horrible thing. And every time something happened to him, a graze on the driveway or a fall on the court, I hated to think what my life would be without him."

Her grey eyes are full of tears when she turns to Haley. "W-what I felt then is not a fraction of what I'm feeling right now. I've lost my son, Haley. My only child."

Haley sniffles, pulling the sleeves of her sweatshirt into fists. "I–"

Deb shakes her head slightly to silence her. "I…I know you loved him and he loved you. There was no way that either of you could have foreseen what happened."

She reaches her hand to lay it on Haley's knee. "It may not seem so now but someday, those memories you have of him will make you smile and you will be happy knowing that you had him."

Haley just holds her face between her hands and sobs.

She knows that Deb is trying to make her feel better but even all the right platitudes won't cut it close to faintly better. When someday comes, Nathan will still not be here.

Her soul is simply shattered.

Like a spray of ice cold water on her face, she is jarred out of the fog of her sorrow by ringing.

Deb is gone, the room is empty, and the ringing is coming from someplace hollow.

Trying to make sense of it, she looks around the room to locate where it could be coming from.

She lunges for the trilling and vibrating phone, stored away in the top drawer of the bedside table.

Her fingers brush across something else, and she grabs it, too. It's the Ziploc bag with Nathan's things.

Preferring not to dwell on its contents, she blinks repeatedly through the haze of her weariness to peer at the name of the caller on the small screen.

Swallowing hard, she fumbles to take the call.

"M-mom?" she starts in a tired whisper, the tears ready to leak out again.


	5. Chapter 5

In the days that follow, everything feels like it's flying too fast, yet it also feels like it's in slow motion.

Her parents show up, hovering and fussing. Haley finds it strange having their exclusive attention after a long time of not even being in the same time zone with them. Strangest of all, every one of her siblings prepares to fly down to see her.

The funeral home director calls frequently asking for confirmation on details about flowers and transport and casket linings. The priest from the local church, the same one who presided over their wedding, also calls about the eulogy and the programme and a dozen other things.

It all drives Haley so crazy that like a coward, she turns off her phone for an hour, before the guilt creeps in and she manages to pick out the best of everything for Nathan. She's determined to give him a decent sendoff.

People stream into Peyton's house every day, always leaving enough food to feed an army. Chances are that it could all go bad because none of them can manage a full meal, just slight nibbles here and there to restore some energy.

Haley feels bad for imposing, like she's made Peyton's house her own, but Peyton refuses to let her go home just yet. She's relieved; it's nice to have someone else close by, because the truth is she can't go back to the apartment just yet.

In those days that follow, Haley wishes that there was an ill habit she could drown herself in. With the bad week she's having, she'd be sucking on so many cigarettes that her lungs would blacken, her breaths coming out coloured like tar.

She is just miserable.

And then the day she feared arrives, the day she has to bury her husband.

"Ready?" Lucas asks as they stand alongside the curb, preparing to enter.

The sky is clear, and the sun shines hot and bright. Some are probably calling it a glorious, joyful day but it is a very dark day for others.

"Never," she says, looking up at him, not missing the dark circles under his eyes, the haggard expression and the tight pull of his lips into a flat line.

"Are you?"

"Never." He sighs, staring at the large, heavy oak doors leading into the church.

Haley glances over her shoulder at the black hearse not parked too far away from them. Her hands are shaking as she slips on the sunglasses, pushing them up as high as they can go on her nose.

Turning away from the ominous car, she links her arm through Luke's. They've arrived at the last possible minute, in a bid to avoid talking to anyone.

"I…I feel like I'm going to lose my mind at any moment," she admits softly, a tremor going through her.

He nods understandingly, leaning his cheek on the top of her head.

The pressure in her chest is becoming suffocating and she has the wildest urge to hide away.

She loosens her arm from his, the confidence she had dissolving.

"I-I don't think I can do this, Lucas. I'm not ready to let him go."

It hurts so much that this is the day she has to let him go.

"I know," he says faintly.

She bites down on her lower lip, chewing thoughtfully on it, her eyes focused on nothing in particular.

"I never really thought about it but it makes so much sense right now."

"What does?"

"The widow on crime television dramas."

"What?"

"At most, she gets ten minutes out of the forty. And in those ten minutes, they show us how they break the news to her, when she identifies her husband's body, another minute to interview her just in case she had something to do with his death and finally, giving her the news about catching the murderer when she's innocent."

"They don't show us her sleepless nights, her life spinning out of control, or her never-ending pain and tears. They make grieving look so…trivial, something easy to recover from."

She slips her arm through his again, brushing imaginary lint off her dress. "I've been cast in a role I never wanted to play, Lucas."

She laughs wretchedly. "I could be that grieving widow in someone's story."

* * *

There's a mixed scent of incense, perfumes, and the sweet aroma of flowers.

The church feels small and cramped, every seat filled with figures dressed in black. Young and old, family friends, schoolmates, acquaintances, relatives of Nathan she knows and doesn't know; they're all here.

At the sight of the large gathering, under her dark, broad-framed sunglasses, Haley glances around in a panic. Her breath hitches when every eye turns to face them, watching them shuffle down the aisle.

Less than a week ago, Luke was walking her down a different aisle, one with green grass bordering the white carpet, purple and white flower petals decorating their walkway. And at the end of that aisle, Nathan was waiting, a wide grin on his face that had her throwing him her own wide grin.

Her hand, curled around Luke's arm, tightens, gripping the material of his suit jacket. She really wants to flee.

Lucas places his hand over hers, warm and strong against her cold and clammy one.

"I've got you," he whispers.

Swallowing at the hard lump in her throat, she soldiers on, staring straight ahead.

Her eyes then land on the large photograph of Nathan at the front of the church.

The blown-up image must be at least two feet tall. He's in his navy blue Ravens uniform, the captain's mark embroidered in white visible just below his left shoulder, a basketball under his arm. He's grinning, that heart-stopping smile, face still damp and flushed after the game, looking so life-like.

It was taken less than a month ago after the Ravens' quarterfinals victory against the Knights in the State Tournament.

Right next to the picture is the centrally positioned casket, pale-grey and glossy.

Everything fades around her, and she's no longer aware of who or what is around her. Her gaze is locked on the casket.

Small ferns and green plants fill the front of the church, and there are two large flower wreaths covering opposite ends of the casket. Other smaller numerous floral arrangements surround the casket.

He's in there. He's lying right there, in the soft satin lining of the box, resting on the ivory satin pillow, in a black suit that makes him dashing, looking like he's taking a nap with that peacefulness on his face.

She touched and kissed him for the very last time during last night's viewing service for close family and friends. She requested that the casket be closed today; she cannot bear seeing people gawk at him just to satisfy their morbid curiosity on whether or not he got shot in the head. Let them think what they want but her husband deserves to leave with dignity.

She cannot take her eyes off it in the eternity it takes for them to get to the front pew.

They slink in beside Cooper and Deb on the far right of the pew, Lucas turning around slightly to speak to their friends in the row behind.

For Haley, their support has been nothing short of steadfast since that horrible day. They've held her hand, they've comforted her and they've cried with her.

They lost a friend, a childhood friend from those playground days. Lucas lost his brother, a sibling relationship that was nonexistent for years before they mended things.

In her left hand, she holds a single, thornless red rose. Her fingers wind around the thin stem, and she can see her wedding ring sparkle as the light from the window hits it.

The tears are stinging her eyes but they don't fall. She's cried endlessly for days but on the day she needs closure, everything's bottled up.

Switching the flower to her right hand, she reaches for Deb's, linking their fingers together. It's strange that in the last week, the hugs and handholds between them are automatic, when all they did before was greet each other coolly, never daring to even shake hands.

Death really does something to people, especially the death of someone they both loved.

Lowering her sunglasses, Haley blinks a few times to adjust to the brightness before giving Deb a crooked smile.

The words leave her lips before she can stop them.

"Are you okay?"

It makes her recoil asking something so silly and mundane on a day like today. Of course his mother is not okay.

"Sorry," she adds quickly.

Her face is pale and gaunt, and it's hard to ignore the fatigue in her eyes. Her fingers play nervously with a balled-up handkerchief, and she gives Haley a tired half-smile.

Soothing music plays from the speakers mounted on the high corners of the church, a hymn that Haley recognizes about being nearer to God.

She hopes that wherever Nathan is, he's near something amazing and good.

Silence falls over the room, the soft murmurs coming to a stop when the priest steps up to the pulpit.

"May the peace of God be with you."

Everyone in the crowded church rises and the funeral begins.

* * *

_"Are you high?"_

_"High on you."_

_"Please don't make me laugh. I beg you." _

_"Come on, Hales. It's Sunday and there won't be that many people around. We can get a good workout and you'll have plenty of room to scream at the machines."_

_"We? You go but I'm not going back there, even when hell freezes over."_

_"Two hours. Tops."_

_"That sounds like two days in my head," she groaned. "My body is killing me, babe. There are parts of me that I didn't know could ache like a motherf–"_

_"You are a real potty mouth when you're in pain," he grinned, then winked at her, "and pleasure."_

_"You'd be doing us both a favour if you didn't jump my bones today. I'll make it up to you in a year when I can feel my limbs again."_

_"It's not that bad."_

_"I can barely roll over or lift a toothbrush without wincing, and now you want me to get off this wonderful bed to go and lift bellbars?"_

_"Barbells," he laughed._

_"Whatever. I gave it a shot yesterday and once is enough for me."_

_"We can do this, Hales. Look, I even have your gear all ready. Freshly washed, waiting to be soaked up with sweat."_

_"You're disgusting."_

_He lay on top of her over the duvet, the weight of him strangely soothing and calming to her stiff, aching body._

_"Please, Haley?"_

_"Let's be real, honey. I'm just not cut out for the gym."_

_Supporting himself on his elbows, he started playing with her hair._

_"Hales, I don't want to lose this bet to Lucas. My pride is riding on this."_

_"What about my pride? I'm walking around like I have cement blocks for feet, I think I tore a muscle or something, and pretty soon, I may not walk again. I'm in pain of the greatest proportions."_

_Leaning his face closer to hers, he placed several kisses on her lips. "It's a good thing. Those are just your muscles stretching out. Like your glutes."_

_"My what?"_

_"Muscles. You know, the glutes, abs, quads, hamstrings, triceps and biceps." _

_He traced his hand lightly from her shoulder to her hip. "They contract and relax when you exercise, and since you don't work out often, your body's sore and tender."_

_"Oh my God. I never thought I'd say this but you are such a nerd. Why did you make that baseless bet in the first place?"_

_"It's not baseless. Lucas was being a little too smug. If you had seen him, you'd have thought so, too."_

_"Why do I have to suffer for the sake of your pride?"_

_"Because you love me. Come on, baby. Just do this for me? In two weeks, we'll have Luke and Peyton doing whatever we want. We can even make them clean the hell out of this apartment."_

_It felt like a brick was sitting on her abdomen when she laughed. "Bossing them around would be nice."_

_He grazed and nibbled at her lower lip with his teeth before kissing her again. "Better yet, you prove it to him that you're not as weak as he thinks you are."_

_She gasped, her eyes widening. If her arms weren't as heavy as lead, she would have sat up._

_"He what? Lucas called me weak?"_

_He shrugged nonchalantly, combing out her strands. _

_"Are you riling me up on purpose so that I can do what you want?"_

_"No! I'm not that manipulative! And just between you and me, he said that Peyton will crush you with her steely determination."_

_"Crush me?"_

_He raised his eyebrows in answer, twirling a string of her hair. "Crush you."_

_"Steely determination, my big toe. If I swung my hip, she would land on the sidewalk. Splat."_

_"Yeah, she would."_

_"She's called me to help her move her bed!"_

_"And you did!"_

_"I've had Lucas in a headlock!"_

_"You have?"_

_"Yes, I have!" _

_Her eyes narrowed slightly and with a hard kiss to his lips, she said, "Oh, it's on. Let's do this!"_

_"That's my girl!"_

* * *

She almost guffaws loudly at the memory of him laughing at her groans of pain as he lifted her off the bed in a fireman's carry to help her into the bathroom.

A snicker passes her lips, though, and from the corner of her eye, she catches Deb look at her strangely.

She's half-present as the priest talks about life and death, most of what he's saying flying over her head.

He's referring to a passage in the Psalms, the one about the valley of the shadow of death. She wishes she could tell him that right now, she's the epitome of walking through that valley of the shadow of death.

A valley full of memories. All those memories she has of Nathan will stay just that.

There won't be new ones to make, and as much as she pauses and rewinds the scenes, they're all she has. There won't be more because he's not coming back; all there is to do is dream and remember.

And the week has been full of them, confusing and horrid dreams of being with Nathan and then losing him.

Over and over again, they suck her in, making her feel loved being with the man she loves and then seeing him ripped out of her arms.

The scenes are random, flitting from him being dragged off by some monster to watching him die slowly after he's shot, drowning to death in his own blood.

She's woken up screaming, panting and sweating, and no matter how hard she squeezes her eyes shut, she can't shake them off.

The beautifully carved casket is just inches away from her, and if she stood and stretched out fully, she would touch it.

A giant chunk of the priest's sermon has passed her by but when he asks who wants to say a few words, she clears the murkiness out of her mind.

Lucas is about to get up, to do what she can't, but she stops him, her hand on his arm.

"I-I can do it," she murmurs.

He gives her a questioning look and she nods slightly, standing from the pew to straighten her dress.

A dropping pin would be heard over the eerie silence in the church as every pair of eyes watches the young widow step up to the pulpit.

They are not oblivious to her sunken, bloodshot eyes and her pale, makeup-free face that is tinged with pink when she looks up at the crowd. She looks so frail, like she could be blown away by a strong gust of wind should it sweep through.

Haley scans the church, seeing her family, her friends, faces of people she recognizes and doesn't recognize.

Her siblings are seated together with her parents, some of her Tree Hill cousins behind them. Next to Peyton, Brooke is also here with her parents, flying in last night from California where they had relocated to last year, and she gives Haley a wan smile.

Drawing in a deep breath and bringing the microphone closer to her lips, she says hoarsely, "He was my everything."

A faint sad smile touches her lips. "When we first officially met, we didn't have the best opinions about each other. I thought he was a jerk and he thought that I was stuck-up. We were both right."

Short laughs echo across the hall.

"But that's the funny thing about love. And life. What you thought was one thing can completely surprise you. Nathan did surprise me. He had all these layers about him that were like a nesting doll. He could be tough and unyielding, but he was also sweet, kind and thoughtful. He didn't let many people see those layers but if you knew him, you'd be proud to have Nathan Scott as a friend."

She finds Tim in the crowd, in the row where many of the Ravens are seated. "There were moments that he was unbelievably stubborn. Can you imagine that we argued for three days over what pillows to buy? He insisted on the ones he wanted so much that it just wore me down. I think I was tired of listening to him quote the merits of wool pillows over down pillows."

The chuckles are accompanied by a few sniffles and nose-blows.

Haley gives a soft, humorless laugh before sighing.

"I just want you to know that Nathan Scott was an amazing man. He was my best friend, he made me laugh and he made me unbelievably happy. Like any marriage, there were the tough times but even then, however good or bad, every moment was worth it because they were with him. Although we only had a year and a half, I'm so lucky to be the girl he married."

Her voice wavers, a shaking hand reaching to touch her temple, her fingers brushing over the slightly swollen bump that has reduced dramatically.

"H-he taught me how to be brave. It was incredible just how easy it seemed for him to go after something he wanted. Like basketball. Many of you know that Nathan loved basketball and he wanted to pursue it professionally. Every day, he pushed himself, he challenged himself, and he didn't give a second thought to fear."

"He didn't care that we were sixteen when he proposed, and that kind of certainty he had in us that we would work made me love him even more. I miss him. I miss him so much…"

She drops her hand, her fingers brushing the silky petals of the rose. It's hard to believe that she's speaking about someone who is dead.

Nathan Scott, the love of her life.

She feels like she's drifting in some unknown place where the heart of her world has disappeared, and she can't find her way home.

"He made me so happy and until the end of time, I will love him with every beat of my heart."

She steps down from the pulpit, sympathetic sniffles going around the church, handkerchiefs and tissues pecking at wet eyes and blowing on stuffy noses.

They watch her pause in front of the casket, touching her fingers to her lips, laying them on the casket briefly and then taking her seat.

The music starts up again, a different hymn this time. The priest is the first to stand, beginning the funeral procession that will head out of the church.

In less than an hour, it's over.

Lucas, Skills, Mouth, Tim and two of Nathan's teammates are pallbearers. They slip on white gloves and effortlessly, they hoist the casket on their shoulders, marching to the soft cadence of the music.

Deb and Dan leave their seats to follow behind the casket, and then Haley, Peyton and Brooke. The other family members and friends file out behind them, the rest of the mourners shuffling out last.

* * *

At the priest's cue, the closest family members are each handed a shovelful of dirt.

Haley's mouth goes dry as she holds the spade in both her hands, looking intently at the grave in front of her.

The priest talks of ashes and dust, and every member of Nathan's immediate family turns their shovel over, letting loose the red dirt into the gaping hole.

As the soil hits the casket, each release is like those horrible gunshots going off in her head.

_"I'll kiss you later."_

This is not later. There'll never be later.

_"I love you, Hales."_

Is this what it's come to? Lowering Nathan to the ground and letting him be biodegradable? That's it for his existence?

It makes her feel sick to her stomach and she loses it.

Dropping her shovel like she's been burned, she turns to Lucas, a crazed look on her face.

"S-stop. Tell them to stop…"

She's shaking and looking around wildly as a stumped Lucas puts his arm around her in comfort.

"It's okay, Hales."

"No! No, it's not!" she screams, looking back down at the grave. "He–"

The reality of today is hitting her like a ton of bricks right then. It's like she's been sleepwalking throughout and she just woke up.

"Oh my God…N-Nathan! NATHAN!"

She's sinking to her knees, her sobs shaking her entire body, her hands trying to claw at the dirt to reach her husband. She wants to die, too.

Lucas, feeling beyond powerless on how to help her, turns to look at their friends behind them. Many of them are dabbing at their eyes, fixated on Haley, but Skills steps forward, taking her right arm and helping Lucas lift her up.

"S-Skills…you have to…p-please…" she moans, her eyes full of tears as she looks up at him.

Skills just shakes his head sadly, holding her gently as people part to give them way.

In shocked silence, the crowd watches as the young widow comes apart. Her anguished cries rip through the cemetery, so painful and pitiful.

Tears are streaming down Haley's cheeks as she pushes against her oldest friends, trying to break free.

"Let me go! Someone get him out of there! Please! Nathaaaan…NATHAN!"

* * *

Sobbing deeply, her breathing is fast and sharp as she stumbles into Lucas' car.

He leans over the open door, watching her with agony and sympathy, not knowing what to say to her. There's nothing at this moment that would make her feel better, except for Nathan resurrecting.

"C-can you please give me a minute?" she begs, hiccupping, trying to catch her breath, the tears hot on her cheeks.

"I'll stay with her," he tells Skills softly over his shoulder.

Skills just nods, trotting over the grass to join everyone else.

Lucas closes the door softly, going around the trunk to lean on it, the car dipping slightly from his weight.

Haley's excruciating sobs can be heard through the car, although muffled. He hates that this happened to his best friend, and worst of all, his brother.

They may not have been bosom buddies all those years before they mended fences but his brother was one of the good ones.

Nathan cared about the people close to him, although sometimes he didn't show it easily.

He cared about the future, his future in basketball, working at that dream every day for a scholarship to a good college, and then from there, a ticket to the NBA.

Most of all, he cared about Haley.

Nathan loved Haley in such a way that others were envious of their relationship. Lucas knows he was.

It was that kind of mutual and rare love that was fierce, genuine and unbreakable, and there was some sort of perfect balance between them that was extraordinary.

To find it so young was nothing beyond miraculous. To have it and lose it was beyond painful.

Haley has fallen apart, and as much as they all tell her the right things, about things getting better, there's a part of him that knows it will never happen. Coping is what it is, not healing.

Clearing his throat, he looks over to the mourners at the gravesite, the little colour in that ensemble of black coming from the flowers, handkerchiefs and tissues.

As he's fixated on the shovelfuls of dirt that people are tossing into the grave, someone moves away from the edge of the crowd, heading towards the Mustang where the weeping widow is coming to terms with her husband's demise.

A soft knock on the window startles them both. Lucas angles his head to the side, looking the stranger up and down, his features not registering as those of anyone he's seen around town.

Haley wipes at her cheeks, squinting to see through her wet eyes.

A lean, middle-aged man with reddish-blond hair that's greying at the temples is bent over, a shy smile on his face.

She rolls down the window, his creased and sun-tanned face coming to full focus.

He's dressed in a black flannel suit, and over the jacket, his right arm is bound to his chest, encased in a sling.

"Hello, miss," he says in a soft Irish accent.

"H-hi," she responds in a husky whisper.

"My name is Oscar Shanahan."

The name is familiar to Lucas, but not to Haley.

"I'm the owner of the store where your husband…" His voice trails off.

His name had been mentioned in the news and at that realization, Lucas moves away a few steps from the car.

Haley makes a move to open the door but Oscar stops her. In his sling-free arm is a spring bouquet of multicoloured flowers.

"No. Please."

With slight hesitation, he gives her the flowers.

"Thank you," she says, laying the bouquet on her lap.

"I wanted to tell you in person that I'm very sorry for your loss."

His dark brown eyes are sorrowful.

Before she can say anything, he continues, "That man…I should have kicked him out when he took so long just to find a gallon of milk."

Oscar sighs, looking away sadly. "I gave him everything in the register but he…"

He wiggles the fingers of his wounded arm. When he looks up, guilt has taken over.

"Your husband didn't do anything to deserve that. That man was just crazy."

Haley's lower lip is trembling, imagining the man in the ski mask shooting Nathan for the heck of it. What kind of human being would do that to another?

A monster.

"I'm very sorry, miss," Oscar says softly with a slight croak in his throat.

Haley reaches for his hand that's gripping the door and pats it, hers petite and pale against his sunburned and rough one.

"Th-thank you, Mr. Shanahan."

Him taking the time to seek her out is not complete closure but it's a small step there.

Oscar gives her a shaky smile before straightening. He catches Luke's eye, who nods in acknowledgment.

Holding up a hand goodbye to Haley, Oscar crosses the street and heads towards a blue pickup.

As she watches him drive off, she sees someone stepping away from a white Camry parked near a tree shade.

That wide-brimmed black hat belongs to Deb.

She says something to the driver, flailing her hands as though angry, and then pointing a finger at the Camry owner's face. Whatever the Camry owner says is agreeable with her and she seems to relax. She nods before the Camry owner drives away.

She turns, straightens her dress, adjusts her hat and walks back towards the mourners.

The scene leaves Haley wondering who could have riled up Deb like that.

Sticking her head out of the window, she leans over to look at the rear end of the Mustang.

"Luke? Is it okay if we left?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Knock, knock."

Worn-out and not feeling too well, it takes a lot for Haley to turn her head. It even takes more to say, "Come in."

She's also a little off balance and tense, the sorrow attacking her at every second.

"Hey," Peyton smiles, only her curly-haired head visible on the doorframe. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just resting. Is everyone gone?"

She steps in, a ceramic bowl in her hands. "Brooke's gone to town but she said she'll call, Lucas and your parents will be back later, and I brought you some soup."

The smell of chicken and spice carries under her nose, suddenly making her dizzy and nauseous.

"I'm not hungry."

Peyton places the bowl on the nightstand. "You skipped lunch, after having only half a slice of toast and coffee for breakfast. I will force-feed you if I have to but you gotta eat. You have to keep your strength up."

Haley smiles slightly at her friend, appreciating that she's treating her like normal. She wants normal so badly but the raging reminder of Nathan's absence means that normal has taken up residence elsewhere.

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other."

She lifts the bowl from the table, pushing it towards Haley. Chunks of chicken with bits of peas, parsley, diced carrots and celery sit in the broth.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, Haley rolls off the bed, running madly towards the bathroom and slamming the door closed behind her.

The dry heaving leaves her eyes wet and her throat aching.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she steps back into the room, falling on the bed with a groan, curling up into a ball.

"I hate this."

Peyton is frowning, looking closely at the soup. "Is something wrong with it? You've always liked my chicken soup."

"No, it's not that."

"I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich or something."

"I'm sure the soup is fine. I just can't seem to keep anything down."

That piece of toast she nibbled on early this morning found itself being flushed down the toilet. She wonders if her sorrow is manifesting physically.

Peyton raises her head slowly from peering into the bowl, staring down at Haley.

"How long has this been going on?"

"A while. A lot more in the last week."

"Before that?"

"Sometimes. What? You freak me out when you get that look," Haley says, turning over onto her back, drawing in long breaths through her nose and exhaling through her mouth.

It makes her feel better.

"Hales. Hales. Hales," Peyton says urgently, tapping Haley's arm repeatedly.

Eyes still closed, Haley rests her palm on her clammy forehead. "Hm?"

"Have you had your period?"

Her eyes fly open, and she drops her hand to really look at Peyton.

"What?"

"When was–"

In a flash, Haley's running into the bathroom, dry retching again over the porcelain.

She does a quick job of brushing her teeth, the toothbrush flying furiously in the tight grip of her trembling hand.

When the hell was her last period?

Splashing water on her face, panic gives way to fear and the sobs start.

She turns off the tap, gripping the edges of the sink tightly, her hair forming a curtain around her face as she cries softly.

With the stress that came with organizing the wedding, keeping up with school and making it to work, she hadn't paid attention to her calendar. Hers have always been irregular, and being late was really not something to cause alarm.

Until now.

In her tear-fuddled quick calculations, the last time would be close to two months.

Two months.

Two months ago, they spent hours on a wet quilt in the middle of an empty football field.

She was on antibiotics for a mild case of strep throat, and even though Nathan had protection and she was still faithfully taking her birth control pills, something must have happened. She can understand the antibiotics weakening the effectiveness of the pills but both the contraceptives?

Her mind is reeling. She's seventeen, and last they talked about it, they were not ready for a baby. When it was the two of them.

How the hell will she do it alone if she is? Why did he have to be gone before getting a chance to know? Why did he have to be gone at all?

"Do you think that you could be pregnant?" Peyton asks softly from the doorway.

Shaking her head, Haley turns the tap back on, splattering unsteady handful after unsteady handful of water on her face.

After that Birth Control Fight, they would sometimes speak jokingly about baby names but when it came to actually allowing it to happen, they didn't. They were always careful.

Her insides have turned to mush, and the terror she's had of living without Nathan magnifies at the thought of raising a child, _their_ child, alone. Without him.

"Now you're just trying to drown yourself," Peyton says, shutting off the tap.

Using the small, pale-green towel hanging on the rail, she pats Haley's face dry.

Pulling her gently by the hand, she leads a dazed Haley out of the bathroom.

"Come on."

Haley wants to sink to her knees where she is. She's usually stronger than this, able to do things by herself, but since Nathan died, she's been reduced to a total mess, someone who needs to be held up and dragged from room to room.

"Oh my God…" she rasps, trying not to cry again.

"Okay. Before we jump into any conclusions, we need to be sure," Peyton says as she pats the pockets of her jeans, looking for her car keys.

"I'll go to the store. You stay put, alright? Hales. Haley. Can you hear me? I'm going to the store to raid the shelves."

"Th-there's some money in my wallet," Haley squeaks, panicking and horror-stricken.

"I'll be back as fast as I can," Peyton says, hurrying out of the room.

"Be careful," she whispers to an empty room.

When Peyton revs up the engine, Haley is already beside herself. After she hears the car disappear into the evening, she grabs her duffle bag, shoving everything she owns into it.

Slipping her feet into shoes, she snatches up her purse, already in a frenzy sprinting down the stairs, breathing hard and working up a cold sweat.

Her body is suddenly energetic and humming, and for some reason, she feels like she has no other choice but to leave.

She doesn't know where she's going or why she's leaving but she just needs to go.

* * *

She watches the bus drive away before raising her eyes to look across the street.

The five-floor high apartment complex is the same as it was all those days ago when the horse-drawn carriage picked her up.

Tightening her grip around the strap of the duffle bag like it will break loose, she looks both ways before crossing the street.

Her flip-flops crunch on the graveled parking lot as she glances around the place that was home since they got married in junior year.

The sprinkler is on like it often is this time of evening, watering the small patch of grass just behind the fence. Their little car is still where it was a week ago, sitting at the far end of the car park.

Nathan and Keith had fixed it up at the garage with intent to sell, but seeing how the newlyweds needed a car of their own, Keith had told him to keep it as his wedding gift to them.

The cobblestone walkway leading up to the brick building is dark, and as usual, it creeps her out just how spooky it can be. It's not once or twice that the tenants have asked the sluggish building manager to put up a lamp.

Coming around the corner at the top of the first staircase, she bumps into someone, very nearly losing her balance and crashing down the flight of steps.

"Oh, jeez. Are you okay?"

The figure comes into view, and it's none other than the woman who has always seemed peeved at having such young neighbours.

"Mrs. Rosen. Hi."

"Haley."

"Sorry. I didn't see you."

As Haley starts for the next floor, Mrs. Rosen reaches out to grab her wrist.

Surprised at the contact, Haley looks from where the older woman's fingers are gripping her wrist to her face.

"I'm sorry about your husband," Mrs. Rosen says, pity in her eyes.

That lump stuck in her throat starts to pulsate and she nods, and it takes a tremendous effort to prevent crying. It's an odd gesture from her aloof neighbour but Haley appreciates it.

"Th-thank you."

Mrs. Rosen loosens her hand, clearing her throat and straightening her perfectly ironed sweater set.

"Be careful," she says in a brusque voice, starting down the stairs, "you could really hurt someone."

Just like that, she's back to her usual self, nose turned up in the air haughtily.

Up the stairs and down the corridor Haley walks, finally stopping at the last door near the end of the third floor, apartment 305.

Even though Nathan had given it up after she'd left for the tour, they were able to move back in. The new tenant was moving out just after their reconciliation, some sort of sign that they really were meant to be together.

There's a piece of paper sticking out of the bottom of the door, like the edge of an envelope. The mail.

Heart thudding madly similar to one who has just completed a marathon, Haley tells herself to relax, that it's not a big deal being here at their home.

But it is a big deal when beyond that door, there's nothing left but those memories and dreams she's been losing herself in.

Her hand is tense as she places it on the cool door handle after turning the key, and she takes one more breath before opening the door.

It's stuffy, dark and silent when she walks in.

She grabs the bundle of letters from the floor, dumping them into her purse and shutting the door. Blindly, she stumbles through the semidarkness towards the windows across the room to air out the apartment.

Her small toe strikes against something hard, the pain so jarring that she sucks in a breath and drops her bags. She hops about, fighting not to scream and cuss loudly.

"Sh– Ow! Ow!"

Whatever that is wasn't there the last time she was.

Limping slightly, she draws back the curtains and opens the windows, a breeze starting to drift in.

She hobbles around more carefully to get to the light switch. Hopefully, that hasn't moved, too.

It takes her a moment to adjust to the brightness.

"What the…"

Her mouth is puckered in surprise as she looks around at the apartment. Did she stumble into the wrong one?

She sees the large photograph of the two of them from their first wedding down at the beach. She's definitely in the right apartment, but everything is different.

Instead of the regular tans and browns that filled the apartment, there's more colour. Bright purples and dark reds, mixed with soft oranges, pale yellows and stark whites.

A bowl of seashells big and small rests in the centre of the coffee table. Cushy pillows of various shapes and colours rest on a new, cozy, russet couch and its two matching single chairs, night lamps are on the small tables beside the sofa and in the far corners of the apartment, with all those colours and trinkets working together amazingly.

Their TV is gone and in its place is a wide flat-screen television that is supported at least a foot off the ground on a hefty, glossy stand. Below it is a plush, circular wine-red carpet that aches to have toes dug into its fibres.

The walls have been painted fresh, a dusty blue that compliments the dark grey industrial carpeting. The highlight of the room is a gigantic black and green poster of the London Bridge, running at least the entire length of the wall across from her.

Whoever took it timed it perfectly, that time of day that's between late evening and early night. Lights from buildings dot the scenery overlooking the bridge, cars move across the bridge as if they were captured while they wheezed past, and the sky is overcast by darkening clouds. She finds it beautiful and completely breathtaking.

She's blinking back tears as she shuffles towards the kitchen, reaching for the light switch.

The kitchen has also been freshly painted, a sweet yellow that is the colour of sunflowers and will probably make the room brighter during the day. There's a small square table just beyond the breakfast nook, four high-backed padded chairs surrounding it.

He had kept all this a secret.

His behaviour makes sense to her now. All that jumpiness whenever his phone rang and the guilty expression on his face like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar add up.

She always asked but he refused to tell her what he was up to. It drove her crazy, wondering the worst like whether he was having an affair or planning a too-early birthday surprise party for her.

_"You'll see. Now stop being so curious. It's nothing bad, I promise."_

Whoever brought all this stuff must have set it up in the last week, knowing that the owners were out of town; out of town in rainy London, enjoying every minute of it and probably never leaving their hotel room.

Like in a daze, she walks down the short hallway, stopping first at the small spare room to her right. It's still sparsely furnished, with just her guitar, keyboard, a moon chair and Nathan's weights. The walls are the same yellow as the kitchen's, making it look homier than the blank white walls they were before.

Finally, she gets to their bedroom at the end of the hallway.

Turning on the light, she surveys the room under the soft glow.

Sheer, pure white curtains at the big window behind the king-size bed underlay red drapes. A thick cream-coloured duvet covers the bed, decorative pillows of different colours piled on it. The bed rests on a delicate, frilly, peach rug and a flat-screen TV is mounted opposite the bed. A black recliner and dark red loveseat sit on separate corners of the room, and there are two beanbags at the foot of the bed.

It's magnificent.

"Oh my God…"

Her knees back up against the bed and slowly, she lowers herself until she's sitting on the floor.

A fresh burst of tears forms in her eyes as she starts to shake like a leaf. Bringing her knees to her chest, she crosses her arms over them, dropping her head and curling herself tightly into a ball.

The silent tears running down her cheeks turn into loud sobs that penetrate through the quiet apartment.

There is no one to hear or console her.

There is no one to thank, either.

* * *

The door is knocked loudly and unexpectedly, causing her to raise her heavy head.

Her face and eyes feel swelled up, the dried tear tracks like fissures forming on her cheeks.

The visitor doesn't wait for a response, throwing open the door, rushing into the apartment. From where she is on the floor, down the hallway directly across the front door, her eyes come into contact with Luke's.

He seems to deflate with relief. "Jesus!"

"Is that my new name?" she says lightly.

"Your new– oh. Funny."

He laughs dryly, walking down the hallway to settle down beside her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I–"

"Is she here?" Peyton asks breathlessly as she barges into the apartment.

"Jesus, Haley! Leave a note next time!"

"Sorry," she says, smothering a smile. Did they think that she'd gone to jump off a bridge?

"Do you listen to yourself before you speak?" Lucas asks from beside her, his mouth tipped up sideways in a small smile.

She must have said it out loud.

"I– sorry."

"Is that your official decree? I sorry?" Peyton asks as she sits in front of both of them, crossing her legs and placing a white plastic bag before Haley's feet.

Haley sniffles, reaching for the paper bag. "Unique, wouldn't you say?"

She glances over at Lucas before tilting her head to the side in question at Peyton.

"He came over to the house. I had to tell him," Peyton explains.

Haley nods, stretching out her legs before her, glancing around the bedroom.

"Did you know about all this?" she asks, throwing the question at both of them.

They turn away, a sheepish look on both their faces.

"It's a wonderful surprise. I just wish that Nathan–"

Lucas puts his arm over her shoulders, giving her a squeeze.

"When…when did he get the time to do all this?"

"Remember him telling you often that we were meeting at the River Court?"

"Yeah?"

"Technically, we were meeting at the River Court but not for basketball."

"He sometimes acts like an expert on sales and bargain buys these days," Peyton says flatly.

"All that walking I did is not going down the drain. You like it?"

"I love it. Especially the London Bridge." She looks over at Peyton.

"He was a pain in the butt about me getting the perfect picture."

Haley laughs softly, imagining Nathan hounding Peyton about it, her yelling at him to get off her case.

The paper bag rustles as she rifles through it, her hands pulling out four different kits.

"Why so many?"

"I thought it would be good to get more than two but I didn't want three so I just got four."

Peyton has an odd fixation with avoiding odd numbers. She sets her alarm clock on even numbers, her TV and iPod volume is always on even numbers, and she'll adjust a recipe to suit her preference of even numbers, like adding four eggs if the recipe said three.

The sight of the boxes makes Lucas blush and it doesn't go unnoticed by Haley.

She wiggles one of the boxes in front of his face. "Do you think I should start with this one?"

He looks away, his cheeks now a hot pink like that on the box.

Haley is laughing as she gets to her feet, stashing the boxes back into the paper bag.

She seems to sober up, her face turning serious. "Can you keep the time? Five minutes. Tops."

Lucas looks like he may bolt at any moment.

Peyton whips out her cell phone. "I'm on it. Let's make it four. Or six. Four it is."

Haley stops by the small table where the sound system is, starting up whatever CD that is in there.

She shuts the bathroom door just as Timbaland comes on over the speakers.

"Time's up!" Peyton yells through the door.

Dropping her thumbnail from between her teeth where she's been gnawing at it for the last four minutes, Haley responds with a yell of her own.

"Okay!"

She rubs her hands down her jeans, glancing at the four sticks sitting parallel on the bathroom counter.

Her knee bops nervously to the music behind the door. Taking a deep breath, she stands from the edge of the bathtub to look down.

She can't say that she's extremely surprised, but she's not elated, either.

Maybe there's something wrong with her. Maybe that thing that broke in her when Nathan died prevents her from reacting with some kind of emotion to the news from all four sticks.

She wraps them up in tissue, throws them in the bin and washes her hands. Sighing, she rubs at her temples with the heels of her hands before opening the door.

Peyton and Luke are standing in the middle of the room, anxious expressions on their faces.

"Well?" Peyton prompts.

"I need to make an appointment."


	7. Chapter 7

It's early morning when she wakes up, almost in tears, alone in the big bed.

All night, the dreams wove in and out, making her toss and turn. The one that woke her up was the worst because Nathan didn't recognize her at all.

She was in her wedding dress at a bus station, chasing after him endlessly, but she couldn't reach him.

Just when she thought she'd caught up with him, he seemed to move farther away, like he was in a hurry to get somewhere.

Desperate and frustrated, she screamed his name repeatedly, begging him to stop.

He turned slowly to face her, looking so handsome in his wedding suit that the version of her in the dream wanted to run into his arms.

"I miss you," she croaked, edging closer to him.

He just stared at her blankly, as if looking through her, and asked, "Who are you?"

The immense sadness she felt in the dream when he couldn't recognize her was so sharp and tormenting that it woke her up. It seemed to spread to the core of her.

For a moment, she hopes that he's somewhere in the apartment, making coffee, using the bathroom or even playing those video games that drove her insane, but it's all quiet where she is.

It's only her within those freshly-painted walls of the apartment.

After waking up with him virtually every morning, the permanent aloneness is something that will take getting used to.

The best part of the morning had to be cozying up to him before they dragged themselves out of bed. He was warm, his arms snaking around her, kissing the top of her head as she burrowed closer to him, both of them sneaking in a few more minutes of sleep.

She turns over, putting her hand out, feeling the cold sheet on Nathan's side of the bed, the space where he should be.

She takes his pillow, the one he argued so hard for, embracing it tightly, the scent of his cologne overpowering her senses.

How can she get used to this loneliness? How can she get used to him being gone when he's in her thoughts all the time?

This apartment is their home, his things are here, their life together is here. How can she ignore the jacket hanging on a hook behind the door or his gym bag tucked away in the corner beside the recliner, pretending that he's just gone for a morning run?

How can she look at that framed photograph of him dunking a basket, hand stretched out, fingertips brushing the ball as it sinks into the net, and not want to burst into choking tears for that lifelong dream he'll never achieve?

How does someone deal with all those things and move on?

Devastated, she cries some more before wiping her stinging eyes with a wad of tissue, throwing it on the floor to join all the other used tissues.

She imagines that there's a crater-sized hole where her soul is, expanding little by little with each passing day, sucking the life out of her.

* * *

Thunder rumbles from a distance as she makes her way to the entrance of the hospital. The afternoon clouds have turned menacing, swollen with pending rain, and the weather matches her mood, grey and gloomy.

The automatic doors slide open and she's greeted by the characteristic atmosphere of a hospital; the odour of chemicals and medicine, the bustling waiting room with sick patients, hustling nurses and doctors tearing down corridors, expertly weaving in and out of curtained partitions and rooms.

She approaches the front desk, waiting for the frazzled-looking nurse behind it to finish barking into the phone.

"Where can I find the obstetrics offices?" she asks quickly.

She's redirected to the fourth floor of the doctors' plaza on a new block of the hospital.

It's quiet on that wing, mainly due to the fact that it's mostly made up of offices, not hospital rooms.

The walls of the fourth floor are painted green, with hanging black-and-white and colour photographs of sleeping and smiling infants. A television fixed up on the wall is set to a news channel, playing at low volume. The waiting room only has a handful of female patients scattered around, some pregnant and some not, flipping through magazines and scrolling through cell phones.

It doesn't look that different from her regular doctor's office. At least, what was her regular gynecologist's office before she closed down the practice and moved to Denver last month.

She's suddenly a bundle of nerves as she clears her throat to get the nurse's attention.

"Hi. I um, I have an appointment with Doctor Faulkner."

"Name?"

"Haley Scott."

The nurse gives her a quick glance, something akin to recognition flashing across her face.

"Haley Scott?"

Haley clears her throat again, uncomfortable from that moment of scrutiny.

"Yes."

"First time patient?"

"Yes."

The nurse sticks a printed form onto a clipboard, sliding it towards Haley. "Fill this out and just have a seat until your name is called."

"Thank you."

She takes a chair in the corner of the room away from everyone else, filling in answers to the questions slowly to pass the time, her large, wide-spaced and blue-inked handwriting standing out against the small, printed words.

Husband? Deceased.

Emergency contact? Not Nathan.

One by one, the other patients are called until she's the only one left, staring down at the completed form.

Maybe she should join a bereavement support group, one specifically for young, pregnant widows whose husbands have been killed viciously and mercilessly.

There has to be something that can help her get through this grief, something to save her from the darkness that has taken hold of her.

It takes her a moment to realize that her name is being called from across the room.

Hastily, she's on her feet, holding out the clipboard and her insurance card to the nurse.

"Sorry."

"That's alright, honey. The doctor will see you now. You're in exam room four, last door on your right."

"Thanks."

* * *

Crossing her legs at the ankles, she sits perched on the examination table, changed into a gown, waiting nervously for the doctor.

The white sterile room is warm enough to ward off the chilliness of the incoming storm, but not too warm to make it stuffy.

On a long counter with storage cupboards over and below it, there's a small sink, an industrial-size box of surgical gloves, and medical instruments have been arranged in neat rows on gleaming steel trays.

The décor is reproduction-related; there's an enormous pictorial poster on the progression of pregnancy, another on the female reproductive system, and a few more about contraceptive methods.

It's hard to miss the colourful, life-size cross section foam model of a uterus and full-term fetus mounted on a base stand. Pamphlets in the little nooks of a wooden stand at the edge of the steel table advertise sexuality, adoption, abortion and motherhood. It's like health class, with an ultrasound machine.

All those things staring at her are making her feel scared and breathless. The father of her baby is dead and buried, she's alone in some strange doctor's office, and not far into the future, she's going to be a mother. While still in high school.

She had an entire night and half the day to think about it, but she didn't dwell too long on the concept of motherhood. But right now, seeing all those things spelling out her reality, it is nothing short of overwhelming.

Rubbing a palm across her forehead, she starts to breathe hard, desperately trying to calm down.

The door opens suddenly and it scares her so much that she lets out a small squeak. The mop of black curls bent over looking through a chart is too busy to notice that her patient has a hand over her heart, her chest heaving rapidly up and down.

She's a tall woman, looking even taller with the flowing multihued dress that reaches her ankles.

She finally looks up, holding her hand out to Haley with a toothpaste-commercial smile.

"Hi, Haley. I'm Dr. Faulkner. You're a referral from Peyton Sawyer?"

Haley just nods, matching the doctor's strong handshake.

"Interesting girl," Dr. Faulkner says, dropping the chart on the counter and pulling out a pair of gloves from the box.

"Very," Haley breathes out, fussily playing with a sleeve of the gown.

"When did you find out that you were pregnant?"

"Yesterday. I thought I should come in for a checkup…"

She runs a hand through her hair, unable to keep still.

"That's good. The first trimester is very delicate. We'll start with a routine examination and then do the ultrasound, okay?"

"Okay."

The doctor gives her that friendly bright-white smile, reaching for the black chair at the foot of the examination bed.

"Just relax, lie down and put your feet up in the stirrups."

Following her directions, Haley rests back on the padded bed, trying to relax. The only thing that she is feeling is fear.

Having her feet in the stirrups is like a flash of the future in a few months. She envisions being in the same situation, being told to push, Nathan nowhere to encourage her.

She's never felt so alone and she is scared stiff.

Her hand goes protectively over her stomach and she turns towards the window. The rain has started, pouring heavily, hitting the window like little pebbles.

It reminds her of Nathan. The rain was their thing, and being caught up in it when they were together was a good omen for them.

She doesn't have to think hard to remember the sound of pebbles against her window.

When they were dating, he'd toss them at her bedroom window to get her attention. Usually, she was still up doing homework but sometimes she'd find herself asleep on top of the blankets, face stuck to the pages of her books.

She'd swing her legs over the side of the bed, locking her door quietly before opening the window.

He'd climb up using the giant vines that crept up on the side of the house, slipping into her room, and the first thing he would do was hug her. Even if they'd seen each other an hour before, he'd just hug her like they hadn't seen each other for a day.

They would slink into her bed, laughing and talking in whispers so as not to wake her parents. They would cover everything under the sun, serious things like their relationships with their parents, or random things like their favourite pizza toppings.

There were no awkward silences, and sometimes they didn't have to say much at all to understand what the other was saying.

She misses talking to him, telling him about her day and hearing about his, fighting over silly things and serious things.

She lost her favourite person in the world.

"Well. You are definitely pregnant," the doctor says in her soft-spoken voice, tearing off the gloves and shutting off the lamp.

"And you're about ten weeks along."

Haley eases her feet out of the stirrups, watching the doctor reach for the chart and pluck out a pen from her pocket.

So it definitely happened that night at the stadium.

"Everything looks good. I'll start you on prenatal vitamins and I'd like you to come by in four weeks."

She scribbles into the chart before placing it back on the table, washes her hands in the small sink and then moves the ultrasound machine closer to the bed.

Haley stretches out again as the doctor switches on the equipment.

"This will feel a little cold," she warns, squeezing out some clear gel on Haley's abdomen.

She gasps slightly as the cold gel settles on her warm, naked flesh.

It's cold and it tickles a little.

The ultrasound sensor sweeps at the gel, sliding it along Haley's tummy.

"Take a deep breath and just relax," Dr. Faulkner smiles.

After a moment, she leans closer to the screen, as if looking hard for something, her hand still moving the sensor around.

A cold shudder drips down Haley's spine, and she fears the worst.

"What is it?"

There's a horrid, sickly feeling that is washing over her. No matter how much of a burden her heartache is, at this minute, she really wants that baby.

"Early in pregnancy, it can be hard to find the heartbeat," the doctor explains.

Haley is terrified of what it could mean. What if the baby…

"Wait."

The doctor reaches for a knob on the speaker and a faint thumping fills the silence in the room.

"There it is."

The heartbeat is like music to Haley's ears, the strong beating sounding much closer than far away in her belly.

She didn't realize that her stomach was in knots until she feels herself truly relax at the sound of the heartbeat.

Swallowing hard and blinking feverishly, she sits up on her elbows. "Is that…is that my baby?"

"That's your baby," the doctor grins.

It's incredible, filling her with wonder. Something so small suddenly feels like her lifeline.

"See that flickering?" Dr. Faulkner says, pointing to a blur on the screen. "That's your baby's heart."

She starts to say something but Haley's gone. It's all so surreal to her.

Her heart is trifling faster, as if in rhythm to the drum-like one of her baby.

Before this moment, being pregnant was an abstract thought, but hearing that heartbeat, seeing the baby on the screen, has changed it all.

"Very nice and steady. Would you like a picture?"

* * *

Slamming the door closed, she sighs, leaning her head against the window.

Through the rain-speckled windshield, she can see the front doors of the hospital slide open and shut when patients and hospital personnel stream in and out.

They are faceless as she watches with disinterest, but then her curiosity piques when her gaze locks on a young couple leaving hand in hand.

The woman looks unhappy and the man is saying something to her as they walk to the curb. He looks agitated, stopping and saying something else, his hand still in hers, the other pointing back at the hospital. She smiles and then grins at him, responding to what he said. He laughs, frames her face in his hands, leans down to kiss her.

With another deep sigh, Haley closes her eyes, shutting the couple out, the ache of her loss leaving a tear trailing down her cheek.

Raising the photograph in her hand to her face, she looks intently at the splotchy image. Her fingers trace the darkest smudge, not any bigger than her pinky.

Broken like she is, can she do this alone? Can she raise a child by herself?

A habit she's picked up recently, she reaches for the silver chain around her neck, her forefinger slipping through the gold ring attached to it.

_"I always will be with you."_

Looking back down at the smudge, something flutters in her. Something she hasn't felt in days.

Like a budding flower, that warm glow starts to spread over her heart, traveling through to her cold nerves, her lips curving up in a smile.

This is her reason for living now.

If she could change the past, she would do it without hesitation. She would insist that they go back to the first store, she would tell him that the airport isn't too far and she'll buy him ten bottles of expensive water.

Some things about the future she's unsure of; where she'll go to college, whether she'll stay in Tree Hill or move away.

She's only seventeen, pregnant, and she still has a year to go before graduating high school.

As much as she wants to be in her hometown, she doesn't think she's strong enough to stay in it without Nathan. It's like every place she sees reminds her of him and what they were doing when they were there.

As much as she loves her friends, sharing classes together and hanging out with them, she can't stick around a whole year with a child who depends on her, waiting for her diploma.

There has to be another option. She can't be like everyone else, enjoying senior year with mall trips, long lunches and sleepovers.

But despite those uncertainties, one thing is certain: somehow, she'll make it okay for their baby.

She takes out her cell phone, scrolling through the list for the number she's after. She stares at it for a moment, a number she's always had but never dialed.

He picks up on the first ring.

"Hello, Mr. Scott? It's Haley. Can we meet today?"

* * *

The cemetery grounds are quiet as she makes her way down the gravestones. The scent of rain-soaked earth permeates the air and her flats swish against the wet grass. It's been a dry few months and even with the storm, it's not so sodden that muddy soil is sticking to her shoes.

The only person in sight is the caretaker, where he's raking leaves at the far end of the cemetery near the woods.

She starts to slow down when she sees the freshly-filled grave, wreaths of wilting, two-day-old flowers resting over it.

Balling up a section of the strap of her purse, she nervously squeezes it like a stress ball.

She kneels beside a patch of grass inches away from the wet earth, wiping at the droplets of rain on the headstone.

Her fingers trace the large letters of his name and the smaller ones below it.

_Nathan Royal Scott  
Loved with a love beyond all feeling  
Missed with a grief beyond all tears_

"Hi, honey," she whispers softly, like it's one of those conversations they would have late at night.

She feels like she can breathe better being here alone, without the probing eyes of that crowd when she had her meltdown.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay when they–"

She looks away, biting down on her quivering lip, the wind flitting past.

Leaning back on her legs, she unzips her purse, extracting a copy of the picture and staring at it for a moment.

"I'm pregnant, Nathan."

The tears are already falling and she reaches to wipe the corners of her eyes.

"I-I'm so sorry that you didn't get a chance to know. God, I'm so sorry…"

She cries for a minute, one hand on the headstone to steady her, the other clamped over her mouth.

"I miss you like crazy and I-I wish that you were here every second of the day."

Her hand falls to her stomach, rubbing it gently.

"If you can hear me, I promise you that I'm going to do everything I can to raise our baby right. I promise."

_"Our love will never waver."_

"I went to the apartment last night." She gives out a choked laugh, thinking of how thoughtful he was doing it just for her.

"I can't believe you did all that. Did you have a secret bank account I didn't know about to buy all that stuff?"

The wind picks up slightly, blowing across her face, and she imagines that Nathan has sent her kisses from wherever he is.

"It's amazing and I love it. Thank you."

She looks at the picture again for a moment before tucking it away in a posy of purple and white flowers, the same purple flowers that were growing on the beach when they got married over a year ago.

"I'm going to visit you soon, okay?"

With a kiss to the marble headstone, she stands up, breathing in the rain-scented air, a smile on her lips as her hand touches her belly briefly.

"Always and forever, right, babe?"

* * *

Just as she's guided the car around the curve of the quiet street, she sees a white Camry approaching from the opposite direction. It's similar to the one she saw at the funeral.

Like in slow motion, she looks over at the passing car to spot the driver but the windows are all up. Tinted, too.

Maybe it's one of Deb's friends.

After a long doorbell ring and two hard knocks that go unanswered, Haley turns the brass doorknob, peeking her head into the house.

"Deb? Hello?"

Classical music is playing at a high volume, coming from speakers that seem to be set up all over the house.

She stands in the foyer, shouting loudly, "DEB!"

The music stops after a second, everything now quiet.

"Deb?"

"In here!" she yells from the kitchen.

"Are you busy?" Haley calls back, shutting the door.

"No! Just have a seat! You want some tea?"

She sounds so upbeat and cheerful.

"Um, sure."

The enormity of the house never ceases to amaze her. The first time Nathan showed her the sauna, she thought he was pulling her leg. Where she came from, people didn't have saunas in their homes.

Feeling exhausted, she flops down on the corner of one of the plush couches, leaning back to close her eyes. It's like years since she felt quite well rested.

"Is Cooper around?" she asks, rubbing at her temple.

"No. He left this morning but he'll be back later," Deb says, peeking her head out the kitchen doorway before ducking. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, Haley reaches behind her back to drag out whatever is poking at her.

Instead of pulling out a remote, she cradles a pill bottle in her hand.

There are a few pills in it left and peering closer, she realizes that they're identical to the ones that Deb had an affinity for before going to rehab; the luminous green ones that gave her erratic moods and a glazed or brighter look in her eyes, depending on whatever mood she was in.

"I'm out of regular tea so all I have is–"

She stops abruptly at the entrance to the living room, a tray of mugs with steaming liquid and a plate of cookies in her hands.

That deer-caught-in-headlights expression is gone instantly and she marches into the room, sliding the tray onto the coffee table.

"I only have chamomile," she says coolly.

Haley shows the bottle, looking at her closely. Her eyes are definitely sparkly.

"Deb. What's going on?"

Deb reaches for the bottle but Haley pulls back her hand.

"Where did you get them?"

"Hidden in the couch."

She laughs shortly, taking the armchair angled to the side of the couch. "Forgotten, not hidden."

"Forgotten this morning or five months ago?"

Deb stares at her, her face stony. "It's none of your business."

"It kind of is."

Her eyes narrow, deadly and cold. "No, it's not. You lost your right to nose around when you let my son get killed."

A spear of pain penetrates through Haley with stunning force, and she can feel all the blood draining from her face. Her temples are throbbing as she blinks back tears.

"Y-you can be nasty all you want but don't think for a second that what you say makes me feel any worse about Nathan than I already do."

She places the pill bottle on the table and Deb is quick to snatch it up.

"You're my husband's mother and I care about you. If you need help, I–"

"Give me a call when your only child is dead," Deb spits angrily, popping two pills into her mouth and swallowing them down simultaneously without water like an expert.

Gritting her teeth, her mouth tight, Haley stands, slipping her purse over her shoulder.

"Was that your drug dealer in the Toyota?"

Deb rewards her with a hard snort. "They're my headache pills."

"I saw you, you know. At the funeral. Was he bringing you your headache pills during your son's funeral?" Haley asks bitterly.

"Says the person who drove off halfway through the day," Deb bites back, her body rigid, eyes ablaze.

The air is heavy with tension as silence falls between them. The anger in Haley transforms into further anguish and she sighs with sadness. She refuses to feel guilty for not wanting to see her husband lowered into a grave.

"I didn't think that I would be telling you like this but what does it matter now? I'm pregnant."

Deb's head snaps up, her eyes widening slightly. She blinks, her gaze fixated elsewhere, and then nods mutely.

That suffocating silence hovers, Haley taking the moment to compose herself without screaming or letting the tears drip down her cheeks.

"I swear to God that if you don't get it together, you will never see your grandchild. I won't have a junkie around my baby," she says quietly, trying to get her voice under control.

It's her burden to bear that they're all in this situation.

She looks away, takes a deep breath and lets it out shakily. "I-I mean it, Deb. I'd love it if you were in this baby's life but not like this."

Zipping her purse open, she pulls out the extra copy of the sonogram picture, sliding it across the table.

"I owe it to my husband to raise our child the best I can. That does not include having you high when you're babysitting."

Deb's fingers are trembling as she reaches for the picture.

"If you want to be a part of this baby's upbringing, you know how to reach me."

She doesn't stop to see Deb's reaction, rushing out of the living room. She's approaching the door when Deb's soft cries start to echo down the hallway.

She stumbles out into the cool air, smacking right into her father-in-law on the stoop.

He reaches his hands out to steady her, before pulling back like he's been scalded.

"Haley."

"H-hi, Mr. Scott."

"Are you leaving already?" he asks in confusion. "I thought you wanted to see me."

"Yes."

Blinking feverishly against the tears, she pauses on the lower doorstep, turning to face him.

"You're going to be a grandfather."

He just stares at her before glancing momentarily at her stomach. And then he looks sideways over his shoulder, Deb's loud sobbing carrying through.

"Is something wrong?"

"She's relapsed, Mr. Scott. I won't let her near my baby if she's still taking those pills."

She wraps the strap of her purse around her wrist. "Maybe she'll listen to you."

He nods, hands clenched into fists, face turned slightly towards the open door.

Haley's then fleeing down the driveway to get to her car, wishing that somehow she could go back to that fateful day and change things for all of them.

Her phone is ringing as she fumbles to get the car keys. It's an unknown caller.

"Hello?"

_"Haley Scott?"_

The male voice is unfamiliar to her.

"Yes?"

_"I'm calling from the Tree Hill police station."_

Her heart plunges hard, pounding riotously in her ears.

_"We apprehended the perpetrator guilty of your husband's murder this morning."_


	8. Chapter 8

She mutters softly to herself, flipping through the manual while trying to make sense of the instructions.

It's written in English but it reads like a foreign language. She had been studying for mid-terms for hours and it's clear that this project did not offer the distraction she needed. It's most likely piled on the stress.

Pulling down the booklet from her face, she looks at the monstrosity before her. According to the pictures, it shouldn't look like what she's made it to be.

Hers is most likely upside down. Or missing parts.

Pressing her hand gently on the top piece, the whole thing comes crashing in one smooth sweep.

"Thank you, Dad," she mumbles, putting aside the manual to grab the fallen pieces for another session of crafting.

A wail then comes through the baby monitor beside her, echoing around the apartment.

She doesn't get up immediately, watching the monitor, waiting several seconds in case it's just a false alarm. It's not.

There's a knock on the door as she's pushing herself to her feet.

"Just a minute!" she calls out, rushing down the hallway to the nursery.

The wails are turning into winded cries.

"Hello, my sweet baby boy," she coos lovingly, lifting the little bundle from the crib.

At the sound of her voice, his cry diminishes to a whimper and a sniffle, wetness clinging to his thick lashes.

"Mommy's here. Did you have a bad dream?"

She talks softly to him as she changes him, and by the time she's done, he's calm, kicking his legs up in the air, his hands patting her face.

Leaving a loud kiss on his tummy makes him giggle.

The sound of it is like honey to her soul.

"I love you, you know that?" she mutters, rubbing her cheek on his soft temple.

He was her saviour.

Her eyes stray to a yellow wall, locking in on one of the few photographs mounted up high, the one beside that of a portrait of her with Jamie.

Nathan's smile is infectious even through the still image, his arm slung over her as they look into the camera.

The waistcoat of his tuxedo is open a few buttons, white shirt undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She, on the other hand, has her arm around his waist, and for a moment, she can remember the beating of his heart where her head lay, the scent of his cologne under her nose and the satin feel of his waistcoat against her fingers.

She can remember the feel of his lips on her forehead, the softness of his skin at the base of his throat when she would kiss him there, the strength of him whenever he would hold her.

Remembering those little things about her life with him always leads to the longing and heartache.

And this last year has not been a picnic in the park. There are days when missing him is mild and manageable, but there are days when it hurts like a knife, slashing at every bit of her.

That loneliness drove her to getting her diploma earlier than the rest of her classmates, enrolling in the local college for teaching qualifications as soon as she could. Leaving earlier also had a lot to do with the pitiful looks from students and teachers for those few months she was there. Some of them could barely look her in the eye, like what had happened to Nathan was somehow contagious.

She could have gone to Duke but it was too pricey, too far a commute, and it wouldn't have been the same without Nathan. The main reason she had applied to Duke was because of Nathan.

Even with the financial aid she got from the college, she worked full-time at the café, attending evening and weekend classes, saving up every penny she could before Jamie was born.

Deb and Dan were insistent on helping her financially, still do, but she never touched a cent of it, putting it all in a trust she set up for Jamie.

The hardest thing about the year has been Nathan's absence.

Sometimes she wakes up in tears, wistful and longing, her life now bittersweet with Jamie and without Nathan. If only Nathan had gotten a chance to meet his son…

"You're all fresh and clean, honey. Don't go anywhere, okay? I'll be right back."

She moves across the hallway to the small bathroom, disposes of the diaper, washes her hands and returns to the nursery.

Taking one of his flailing arms, she holds the tiny hand to her lips, placing a kiss on it.

"You wanna see who's come to visit?"

His delightful giggles tear through the apartment as she kisses his cheek repeatedly.

When she opens the door, Lucas is leaning on the doorframe, a container in his hands.

"Hey. You're early."

"Am I?" He looks down at his wristwatch. "Nope. Right on time."

"I must have lost track. Come on in."

"Hi, Jamie." He pinches his nephew's cheek affectionately before heading towards the kitchen.

"He looks more like Nate every time I see him," he says with a wide smile.

Haley rubs Jamie's soft hair, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

"I know. His hair is definitely getting darker."

She still finds it a miracle that Nathan gave her something so wonderful. Nathan would have been a great father to Jamie.

"Aren't you, baby? Pretty soon, people will think you're not mine."

Jamie just stares at her with his blue eyes so like Nathan's, his fingers flexing like he wants to grab something.

Lucas laughs, placing the container on the counter and shrugging out of his jacket. "Mom made some brownies for you."

"Thanks. How's school going?"

He lifts himself onto one of the bar stools on the breakfast nook, watching Haley as she lowers Jamie to the bouncer seat on top of the small dining table.

"Okay. High school is like summer camp in comparison to college."

Jamie reaches for the silver chain around Haley's neck, his fingers grasping the wedding ring hanging off the end of it, his little mouth puckered open.

Haley makes a funny face at him, swinging the toys hanging above the seat.

"But you've made friends?"

He's always studying her whenever they see each other. She's caught him a few times and tells him it's creepy, but he can't help it.

There's something tougher and more solid about her, like she's ten years older than all of them.

It's understandable; she's a single mom, and her child's father is dead.

They pitch in to help, when she asks, but she's doing it singlehandedly as her son's mother and father.

She does seem happy when he sees her, happy enough at least, but they worry about her. It's not that she's constantly depressed and never smiling, but she's more…reserved.

Changes were inevitable when Haley was dealt those cards.

"A couple. Get this, I got invited to join a fraternity."

She moves away from Jamie, her eyebrow raised. The faint bags under her eyes are noticeable.

"Really? Are you going to?"

He clears his throat, giving her a slight smile to mask the sympathy. He knows she hates it when anyone feels sorry for her.

"Nah."

"Wouldn't it be good for your resume having something like that in there? Lucas Eugene Scott, member of Beta Theta Zeta, University of North Carolina."

He chortles at her dramatic hand movements, reaching for the Tupperware to grab a brownie.

"Beta Theta Zeta?"

"It rhymed. Legacy for your children, Luke," she ribs. "They'll pay less tuition fees than everyone else."

She drags out a bottle of water from the fridge and passes it to him.

"I need to feed Jamie but we'll leave right after, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. Before I forget…" He pulls out something from his pocket, placing it on the counter.

"I brought this for him."

She reaches for the minute fire truck, her fist closing over it. "Did you ever stick it up your butt?"

"Haley!"

"Thank you. I'll put it together with all the other stuff that he's likely to swallow before he's eighteen," she grins, moving to the table for Jamie.

She starts singing to him about paper cups and chains of love, total adoration on her face.

He can remember seeing that same look on her face whenever Nathan was around. And his brother was not stone-faced, either.

His would turn radiant, when she did as much as smile at him or attend his games. Nathan used to tell him that he played better when Haley was in the crowd cheering him on.

They had the ability to affect each other's moods, and he can bear witness to seeing a worked up Nathan relax after Haley threw him a wave from the bleachers.

He knows it's been hard for her this last year, making ends meet, balancing school, work and motherhood. Haley James Scott has got to be the strongest person he's ever known, an observation his own mother has even made, having gone through a pregnancy while in high school herself.

When he sees sadness cloud her face as the song comes to an end, her eyes shimmering with tears, he looks away, peering into the living room.

"What were you doing over here?"

Plastic partitions are in a pile around the floor of the study table.

"Hm? Oh. Storage unit," she explains, starting down the hallway. "I'm not very good at following instructions, it seems."

* * *

"Sorry you had to come by for us."

"Don't be crazy. It's not like Jamie is old enough to trash my car," he grins.

She laughs, looking over to the backseat where Jamie is entertaining himself with the mobile of farm animals over the car seat.

"Keith told me that it will be ready by tomorrow morning. In time for Jamie's visit to the doctor's."

"Is everything okay?" Luke asks worriedly, swerving to a tree-lined street.

"Yeah. He just has a regular checkup."

She turns away to the window, losing herself in her thoughts, the identical houses and tall trees passing by in a blur.

Even though the Mustang is Luke's, whenever she's in it, she always has a flash of that day last year when Nathan was driving them towards the airport. She sees herself leaning on his shoulder, his arm going around her, his lips brushing her temple in a kiss.

It's hard to forget that on that day, everything changed.

The silence is broken by Lucas when they get to the stop sign.

"How are you doing, Hales? About today, I mean."

Facing him, Haley gives him a weak smile, not oblivious to the hurt strumming softly within her.

"It's not too bad," she says. "How are you?"

He sighs, leaning an elbow on the open window, fingers tapping the steering wheel.

"I'm angry."

She nods thoughtfully without saying anything.

"I'm angry that we're here and he's not. I'm angry that even though that murdering bastard is in prison, it won't fix anything. I'm angry that Jamie–"

He breathes out hard, jaw clenched, looking far ahead at nothing.

"It's been a year but I'm angry as hell that he's gone."

Lucas turns to her slowly, leaning back slightly on the door. "How is it that you're so composed?"

She laughs mirthlessly, running a hand through her hair. "Composed? Hardly."

There's grief in her features as she looks at him. "There are moments where I'm as lost as I was on the day he died."

She twists around to look at Jamie.

"But there's only so much time I can dwell on that, you know?"

The back of her fingers trail Jamie's chubby cheek.

"I have to keep it together for my son."

Being a mother is exhausting half the time. Taking care of a helpless child as the sole provider, feeding them, soothing them and just being there for them is no easy job. And when things like college classes and work shifts are factored in, it's incredibly stressful, difficult and overwhelming.

"He's my priority, all I have of Nathan. I want to do what's best for him."

A shaky smile touches her lips. "He's all that matters to me."

Lucas gives her knee a squeeze before making a turn to the main street.

"So. Stanford."

A few weeks after enrolling in college, she got a letter from Stanford, telling her that she was on their waiting list. Even if she had been accepted earlier, she wouldn't have been able to enroll that year.

In her fifth month of pregnancy, she'd had quite a scare. She'd had cramps that morning, rushing to the hospital before it got any worse.

She had to spend the rest of the day in hospital, terrified that the spotting meant she'd had a miscarriage.

All night, she had cried softly into the pillow, needles stuck to the back of her hand, watching the heart monitor as it monitored her baby, crying that Nathan wasn't there with her, crying that she was going to lose her child.

The self blame had taken root. She blamed herself for endangering her baby by being so careless and after that, she cut back on her hours at the café, not even working the last two months and just being on bed rest.

If Stanford had accepted her instead of putting her on their waiting list, it wouldn't have been advisable to move across the country; such a risk would have been catastrophic for her and the baby. Besides, being on the waiting list was not a guarantee that they would accept her but last month, they did.

Jamie's almost six months old, as healthy as an almost-six-month-old baby should be, and a move won't be risky to any of them.

"Stanford. I get to have a teaching degree faster than if I continued at community college."

He returns her grin and says, "I'm proud of you, Hales."

"Thanks."

"No, not just about school but with everything. You're a remarkable person, Haley Scott."

Remarkable isn't something she would pick to describe herself.

The one secret she will take to her grave is that she didn't think she would have survived losing Nathan. Had it not been for Jamie, had she not been pregnant, she was ready to give up and let go.

She just turns her head away, should her eyes betray her.

"You leave at the end of next month, right?"

She nods, a little scared at the thought of moving to a place where she knows no one.

"Deb offered to stay with us for a while. At least, until we're settled."

He gives her a quick glance before focusing back on the road. "Really? When?"

"Yesterday."

"Are you going to take her up on it?"

She shrugs, recalling the look of distress on Deb's face. It's not hard to reason that her anxiety came from the thought that she would be losing her only grandson forever.

"I don't know. I think so. I mean, there's no harm in it. She'd spend more time with Jamie, and take care of him until I can sort out my schedule and daycare."

Once in California, she will need time to get a job, apply for classes, grants and financial aid. It will all be easier to do when someone she trusts is taking care of Jamie.

"I'm really going to miss you," he says softly.

She reaches for his hand on the gear shift. "I'll miss you, too. I'm sure we'll come back after college, though. This is home, you know?"

He nods, thinking that perhaps going away for a while is what she needs. In a place where memories of her husband are almost everywhere, a change of scenery could do her good.

"Yeah."

"Since when do you listen to Kenny G?" she asks, holding out the plastic case from the console.

Feeling a blush creep up his face, he chuckles. "He's cool. Really good company when I'm driving down here."

When they get to their destination, there are several familiar cars parked on the curb.

"Looks like we're the last to arrive," Lucas says as he brings the car to a stop.

Everyone is already there, standing in a group underneath an enormous tree, conversing quietly. They all turn towards them when they hear the grunting engine of the Mustang.

Haley suddenly feels nervous, like she hasn't seen any of them in years. They have been around, although not together at once like this since last year.

She steps out after Lucas does, throwing them a wave before reaching for the handle to the backseat.

The pacifier is loose between Jamie's lips, and she adjusts it before carefully lifting him off the car seat.

"We're just going to say hi to Daddy," she murmurs softly with a kiss to his cheek, holding him to her chest and wrapping the soft blanket over his back.

Lucas gives her a sad, lopsided smile and silently, they walk towards the small gathering.

Brooke gives her a hug before taking Jamie from her arms, whispering inaudibly and smiling jubilantly at him.

Dan and Lucas stand aside, speaking quietly like they're in a really deep conversation that no one else should be privy to.

Change didn't just happen for Haley.

Haley hugs everyone, thanking them for coming, and Jamie is passed around, exclamations at how fast he's growing reigning.

Stepping a little out of everyone's way, she takes a moment to look around the cemetery. Except for a freshly dug grave slightly up the hill, it looks the same as it did two weeks ago when she was here.

She visits at least twice a month, usually alone but sometimes she brings Jamie along.

"Hey, friend." Peyton snakes an arm around her shoulders, giving her a side hug.

"Hey. Glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't have missed it. I got you the flowers," she says, handing her a bunch of small purple flowers.

"Thanks. I tried to drop by the shop yesterday but Jamie was a little too fussy and we were on the bus."

"Is the little prince okay?"

"Yeah. It's either colic, stubbornness or he's coming down with something. I guess we should get started."

Peyton nods, waving everyone over.

The group begins to disperse, heading towards the familiar path that will take them to the middle of the cemetery.

Skills, Brooke and Peyton start the line, followed closely by Royal and Mouth, commentary about sports bouncing between them. Dan is carrying Jamie, Deb and Karen not far behind. May and Keith end the line up, May's arm linked through Keith's.

Haley had thought of mourning this day by herself, remembering all those memories she has of Nathan in her own quiet space.

She changed her mind, not wanting to be alone, instead choosing to be surrounded by family and friends, each of them with their own memories of him.

For her, the best memory she has of him is the son they have together. That blue-eyed, dark-haired boy with cherubic cheeks and a glorious laugh is a memento of their love and their life together.

A sudden, slight wind blows, whistling past her ears, swaying the branches of the towering tree.

Like every time a gentle breeze touches her face, she imagines that Nathan is sending her kisses from where he is.

She breathes in and out slowly, an uneven smile creasing her lips, missing him all over again for the sixtieth time in the last minute.

Lucas touches her bent elbow lightly, and blinking away the mistiness in her eyes, she turns to him.

He looks to the direction the others are in before returning his gaze to her.

"Ready?" he asks quietly, tucking her arm into his.

Haley slips a finger through the ring suspended off the chain around her neck, heartbreak like a dark, heavy cloud hanging overhead.

"Y-yeah."

* * *

***END***


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